License to Shrill
by Melody Mist
Summary: Another new chapter! Shuichi has just returned from shooting a music video in Kyoto and has learned to drive. Does this spell doom for a certain black Mercedes?. From Yuki's POV.
1. I don't believe this

Disclaimer: While Gravitaton is one of the best animes I've ever seen, I can't take any credit for anything at all. Am I really going to have to write these disclaimers every time I write a fanfic?

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I don't believe this!

It's four in the morning, and I've finally had it with working on my novel, which now just needs an ending and a title. Staring at that laptop's liquid screen for the last two days was beginning to make blinking a painful chore. I'm still wearing the same navy dress shirt and black pants from two days ago, smelling of the countless cigarettes I smoked in my drab office during the countless moments I had to stop because of my damn writer's block. At least I've accomplished _something _within the last two days.

Except sleep.

And I would have accomplished that too if my phone hadn't start to ring, sounding like an alarm in my already chaotic head.

The auto message of the answering machine picks up the call in the living room, and I hear the faint female sounding voice telling the caller I'm not home and to leave a message. I never felt the need to make a personal message. Why should I when there is a perfectly good automated one? He always says I'd create a more nicer and homier feel if I make my own, but that would go against everything I am. I protested to him afterwards that I don't want him making one of his own, but I don't have anything to worry about since he can't seem to figure out the complexity of my answering machine's menu. Thank the powers that be.

Clearly I'm home, lying on top of my gray comforter, stomach side down and a pillow slightly over my head, but I don't need to bother answering. I know who it is. Everyone who knows a cranky, cold bastard like myself doesn't like to be bothered, especially when my deadline is only a few fleeting days away. But there's one person who always calls despite my annoyance, even after I made him promise not to call me at these god-awful hours when he was away on his tours.

Though this time he was away doing back-to-back music videos on location in Kyoto for the last month. I hope he isn't using this as a loophole.

"I don't believe this," I mutter into my pillow as I hear the irritating beep go off, though I should have known better than to think that way. "Damn it Shuichi."

Yep, it was he, shouting so loudly on my machine that was _all_ the way in my living room; I would have probably thought he was actually there, continuing to dent my sofa cushions.

"Yuki!" he cheers, and I'm glad he isn't here to see a small grin come across my face just by hearing his voice say my name. "Yuki you there? I know you are. Are you working? Sleeping? Dreaming about me?"

"No, no and no," I mumble into my pillow before reaching into the irritated part of myself to find enough energy to roll off my bed and slowly make my way out of my bedroom, passing my office and seeing the blue screen of my computer taunting me to finish the book.

"Yuki?" he is shouting again, and I slip my fingers through my blond hair and let out a sigh. "Your mad because I'm calling aren't you?" I'm sure now he's welding up in tears. "I know I promised not to call you when you were working or sleeping or showering or contemplating why you put up with me," he begins to ramble, and I decide to let him while I pull out my pack of cigarettes from my shirt pocket and light one up. "But I figured if I called now I could give you ample time to get over your irritation with me before I come home in the next ten minutes, ringing your buzzer because I forgot my key on that red string that is probably wrapped around the Kumagorou Sakuma gave me."

I look over at that ridiculous stuffed pink bunny with the never-ending smile that is sitting on the couch. I return my attention to the machine and he's still talking without stopping for air. Thank God for the soothing effect of this cigarette.

"So when we wrapped up today, K-san said we couldn't stay in our hotel because of the mobbing fans so we should just start on our way back now and--"

Letting out swirling smoke, I finally pick up the phone, and in my head I'm thinking, "Glad you called Shuichi," but my mouth says to him, "You promised not to call, Brat!"

"Yuki!" He sounds like his sobbing just ended. I guess after living with me for so long he had translated my various insults. This isn't necessarily a good thing. I'll have to become clever. "You're up!"

"How can I not be?" I quip. "Your idiotic ramblings won't let me sleep. You promised not to bother me."

He's laughing on the other end, and I hear music playing loudly in the background. At four in the morning? Where the heck is he? I hope he doesn't plan on bringing that racket into my home. I think he's in a car. Didn't he say something about being ten minutes away? "Oh, Yuki, you'll be glad to see me. I had to call to let you know about my early arrival. I've got so much to tell you."

"Great, now I'll never hear you shut up," I sigh.

"Yu-ki!" he places emphasis on each individual sound of my name, a sign he's beginning to pout. He looks cute when he pouts, but he doesn't need to know that.

"Ten minutes away, Kid?" I question at him, looking forward to his boyish face and small frame. I wouldn't call him Kid if he didn't 99 of the time act like one, because he is only four years younger than me. We're both adults.

Though I use that term loosely when it comes to Shuichi.

"More like five," he cries as if that sounded longer. I'm starting to wonder if I have been cooped up in my office for too long because I thought I heard someone shout, "Slow down!" Am I hearing voices? It sounds like it's coming from wherever he is.

"Fine, carry up your own luggage," I say.

"Nope, don't need to worry about that," he replies. "We left so quickly that Sakano-san had to stay behind and pick it up, and we didn't even get to change."

I can't be sure but I think I hear that odd looking cousin of Tohma's, Suguru, yelling, "Sakano-san would probably be dead right now from a coronary if he were! I think I might be on the verge of one myself."

"Hush!" Shuichi shouts so loudly I have to pull the phone away from my sensitive ears. "Anyway Yuki, don't laugh at me when you see me. I'm still in my music video clothes. No luggage is a good thing! It'll just be me when I come home."

Great, he's making me smile again and I hate it when he does that. I think I hear his friend Hiro in the background, protesting he get off the phone for a reason I'm not exactly sure why. I know we don't get along, but who the hell is he to order Shuichi around in such a harsh tone? That's my job. K, his manager, apparently is there too, telling Hiro to calm down and threatening Suguru to keep quiet or else he'll pull the trigger, to which I hear Shuichi say thank you to K and he loves his car. I find this all very peculiar as I take another drag of my cigarette.

"I can't wait to tell you what I learned to do the past few weeks up in Kyoto and--"

"Enough!" I say. "Tell me when you get here Brat."

"Sooner than you expect! I love you!"

We hang up, and I delete the machine, even though there are other calls on it, mostly my publisher pleading and yelling at me to get to work on my novel, though now it's the last thing on my mind.

He has big news? Everything he categorizes is big news, but he sounds exceptionally cheerful today. Is that possible? I suppose I can wait five more minutes to find out what it is.

TO BE CONTINUED

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	2. I look terrible

Disclaimer: I don't own Gravitation or anything about Gravitation. Simple enough.

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I look terrible.

After turning on the lights in my place, I waited on the couch, finishing up another cigarette, waiting patiently for Shuichi to come home. I'm still tired and I realize that Shuichi's going to see me in my two day-old clothes. "Damn," I curse, though I don't plan on doing anything about it while I ground my cigarette into the ashtray.

My buzzer is ringing nonstop suddenly and at one point it sounds like it's playing the beat of 'Blind Game Again' each time it buzzes. I actually know the name to his song. Actually I know the name to all of his stupid songs, thought that's another thing I don't plan on telling him.

"Cut that out," I say into my loudspeaker, but my voice isn't cold as I buzz him in.

It didn't take long to hear the constant pounding at my front door and his voice singing my name from the other side. After spending a whole month without Shuichi's energy charging through my expensive but drab flat, I realize I've missed it.

"If you don't be quiet out there, I'm not letting you in," I shout through the door.

"Yu-ki!" he cries.

"You'll wake the neighbors!" I shout back.

"Then _open _the door!" he begs. How cruel of me.

My fatigue and the lull of the tobacco racing through my system doesn't show any of my excitement as I open the door. Then again, when did I ever show excitement?

"Yuki!" he shouts, flinging himself toward me with such force I almost fall over. He's snuggling his face into my navy shirt.

"Don't do that, you idiot!" I reprimand as he's hanging from my neck, and against my words, I have an arm around his waist to keep him close while I shut the door. Already the scent of his shampoo is filling my senses. And wait… That's my cologne he is wearing! I knew the brat stole the bottle. I'd yell at him for being a thief, but he's hugging me so tightly I don't know if I can speak.

I had planned on kissing him first, but he had already beaten me too it as his lips met mine. It was a lot harder than what Shuichi usually does, but I find it desirable, so I don't mind. He's better than my cigarettes. He misses me so much when he is away that he doesn't seem to care about the way I taste, and the fact that I'm a good kisser keeps him from complaining.

"Is that what you learned in Kyoto?" I ask when he pulled away for air, but a new question sprung to my lips before he had time to answer. "What the hell?" Shuichi had always been shorter than me, but suddenly he's almost at face level. There's no way at nineteen that he was still growing, especially with all the energy he wastes running around.

"Oh! I warned you," he laughs, taking a step back. "They're uncomfortable but they make you easier to reach." He's wearing these ridiculously high-soled boots with the color of flames up the sides. In addition, he's wearing a floor length black trench coat that is to large on his small body, and now that I have the time to look at his face.

Is that--

"Is that eyeliner?" I question, reaching out to rub a finger below his brow line because I see something glittery. "And silver eye powder?" His violet eyes now stand out more with the smoky make-up he's wearing. The shocking pink of his hair that usually brushes in his face has been styled with some sort of gel or hairspray, making him appear as if wind has blown it back. I knew being on camera, from doing interviews myself, warranted make-up but this was more than a little face powder.

"Yep," he says, uncinching the knot in his coat and slipping it off his slender shoulders. "I told you we left the moment we finished. K-san let me borrow his coat so I wouldn't stand out as much while we-Hiro, Fujisaki and me-made a dash to his car. Car!" he repeats again with a shine in his eyes as if it was the first word he ever said.

Now I see why he wore the trench coat as he hangs it up on the coat rack in my foyer. I knew Bad Luck's new single would be coming out next month, and I heard from Shuichi's constant talks that it was a tad more on the lusty side than there usual songs.

This video had to be _more _than a tad lusty.

Shuichi looks a lot older. My brother, Tatsuha, is right about one thing- Shuichi's too thin to hold any fat-only muscle built from exuding so much energy, and he could seem feminine but I knew for a fact that he wasn't. The pants were loose black vinyl, tucked inside the long black boots. They were zipped but not buttoned and hung extremely low on his hips. His black shirt barely qualified as one as it hung crooked on his shoulders, one sleeve torn into shreds and the other sleeve gloved around his hand. The shirt was purposely made like this I assume, and no screaming fan girls trying to claw at him were involved. Our relationship was public news, but fan girls still flocked to his concerts, mostly either because Shuichi being involved with a handsome-fan-girl-loved-romance-writer like myself was dating him or they hoped they could make him straight, and that isn't happening as long as I'm alive. Damn fan girls. The slanted shirt exposed the V of his neck, and he was wearing a fake piercing on both of his ears and navel. At least I think they're fake. They weren't there when he left, and I doubt the little crybaby could sit though one painful piercing let alone three. Finishing off the ensemble was a bright pink buckle chocker for his neck.

This was incentive enough to keep my attention, and I couldn't help but stare at him, my golden glare penetrating beneath those clothes, and now I'm starting to think like one of the characters in my romance novels. I hate it when he does that to me, too, and I'm starting to wonder if he planned this sudden return on purpose after I made him promise (or yelled, however it was perceived) to not pester me while I work. But he isn't acknowledging my glance. I can't believe I'm attracted to him in this outfit with face paint on. It could be the combination of no sleep, him being away, cigarettes and alcohol. Oh please let it be the combination of no sleep, him being away, cigarettes and alcohol!

"I am so totally exhausted after the shoot," he said, trying to remove the high boots, almost falling over from standing on one leg and wobbling until he hit the wall with an 'oomph.' The second shoe was easier to remove and he walked right by me, now at the height with which I usually associate as Shuichi. He couldn't have been home for five minutes before messing up my clean apartment. With single pulls he removes all three silver hopes from his ears and navel (yep, they're fake) and tosses them on my coffee table, and starts searching through his stuff for his oversized mug.

Maybe four in the morning isn't that bad after all, I think, watching him go to the kitchen with mug in hand and rummaging through the cabinets and fridge for something to eat, which are all empty except some beer in the fridge. The meal of champion writers!

"This isn't healthy, Yuki," he complains as he pokes his head into the light of my refrigerator. "You're too beautiful for such harmful things. You can't drink and smoke all day."

"Yes I can," I counter, taking a seat on a stool, watching that skin on his uncovered hips. Just observing Shuichi gives me some ideas to break my writer's block, but I never wrote about him per say, in fear he might read one of my books one day and hold the fact that he was my occasional muse over my head. The pairings in my books are always men with women so I can always find a way to avoid anything about our relationship, my lover being another male and all.

He must not be in the mood to argue, because he drops his worry about my health and goes back to his story, settling on downing a glass of water. "Kyoto was a lot of fun. I can see why your family lives there, even if your father stays at his temple all the time. Well, we didn't have much time to do a lot of--what does K-san say--" he contemplates, looking quite adorable as he taps his chin. "Free-loading," he says in the best English he can muster to imitate his American manager before returning to Japanese. "Otherwise I would have paid your temple a visit."

"I'm sure my father would have _loved _that," I comment with sarcasm dripping off my words, though they're lost on him.

"I did get some free time after wrap-ups in the afternoons. Tatsuha visited the set constantly! He was fun to hang around with. I let him in on my secret, but I made him promise not to tell you," he continues with a sly smile. What is this surprise? My brother never mentioned anything about going to see him when he called me earlier in the week.

"I think he was disappointed that Sakuma wasn't there to visit as well," Shuichi shrugs.

"That's obvious," I sigh. My younger brother is obsessed with the lead singer of Nittle Grasper, Ryuichi Sakuma; on the status of God in his and Shuichi's eyes. The man is twice his age, even though he doesn't look it. He's older than me! The 31 year old has this ageless face of a teenager, but he acts like a little kid, carrying a pink stuffed bunny wherever he goes. Tatsuha is an idiot. Ryuichi Sakuma is an idiot. Maybe they would fit well together.

"He was a big help in my studies."

"Studies?"

"We had this shot our director wanted to film with me in this car, and I was saying that I didn't know how to drive, so they made Hiro do it since Fujisaki doesn't know either being only sixteen. I was all mad, because everyone was looking at me like I didn't know how to add two-and-two together at the age of nineteen. So, I took classes and--"

He began to bite his lower lip, another attractive habit he has, as he reached his fingers into a pocket in those vinyl pants. With sparkling eyes heightened by the smoky make-up, he jumps in front of me, holding a laminated card with two hands. "You are looking at an official licensed driver of this great nation of Japan. Shuichi Shindou! Driver extraordinaire!"

"More like the Pink-Hair-Terror-On-Wheels. What is our nation thinking, giving you permission to operate machinery?" I tease, taking the card and staring at his ridiculous picture as if he didn't know they were taking it. Was he drunk? Maybe he was if the kid actually passed. "You don't need to drive. You don't have a car, you run everywhere, and being on tour won't warrant one of these. You did this for your own selfish reasons in a music video."

"Man!" he begins to whine. "I'm a great driver. K-san let me drive us from Kyoto to here in his car."

"So that explains why Hiro was screaming at you to get off the phone," I say. "_You_ were driving."

"Yuki you jerk! Everyone is safe. I'm here aren't I?" he says defensively, stomping a foot and gesturing at his body.

I can't resist it any longer and I drop this piece of plastic he's proud of on the counter, freeing my hands so I can grab his naked waist. "Yes, you are, but are you really safe?" I smile, allowing him to see this one purposely before my lips are on the dent in his collarbone, causing him to shiver and arch his neck. His body is pushing towards my frame as he begins to slightly moan, and those hands I missed are brushing through my hair before sliding down to the collar of my shirt. I suppose I'll finally be out of my two-day-old-clothes soon enough.

TO BE CONTINUED

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	3. I brought this on myself

Disclaimer: Please note the beginning is happy fluff for my own personal enjoyment, and perhaps yours too. We need more happy romance in our lives. Gravitation is one of the best shows ever, and I'm so happy my friend finally forced me to write a story, but sadly, I don't own any of the characters. Aren't we all?

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I've brought this on myself.

The dilemma to showing Shuichi attention of any kind can be split two ways. If I bestow all of my focus on him, he'll constantly cling to me, confessing to anyone his love, embarrassing me by creating a scene. However, if I don't shower my attention upon him, he'll still create a scene but this time he'll yell and scream, and the moment he breaks into tears I find myself not able to think about anything else except that I made him cry. There's only one time where neither situation applies, and I have the pleasure--after a long month without it--to experience Shuichi in the best possible light.

He's sleeping.

I was sleeping too until that irritating mental alarm clock inside my head was finally able to succeed in rousing me. There are only so many times I can hide in bed before every last thought in my head is about the flashing cursor of my word program, waiting at the last line of the sentence I completed yesterday. I always responded to the call, because I had nothing else to do.

But now Shuichi is home and I'm watching him sleep.

He's striking. This is the only time he is quiet, and if he would stay quiet when I requested it from him, I'd allow him to stay in my bed more often instead of ordering him to the couch. Sex isn't the only time he's permitted to stay. I'm not that kind of guy! There are nights when I like having him around, confirming that he is actually staying with me or when the feeling of loneliness takes over. Physical activities in my bed don't have to be present all the time.

For example, nothing happened last night. That was such bad timing on his first day back. I initiated sex after that fanatical outfit he was wearing made me forget my lack of sleep for the last two nights. However, my bed reminded me. When we made it to my room, collapsing on the bed, the last thing I remember was hearing Shuichi saying, "Yuki are you dead?" Then there was the void of sleep. Sometime soon after he must have figured out I wasn't lifeless. My two-day old clothes have now become three-day old clothes. I never did get to remove that tattered black shirt or oil slick colored pants of his like I wanted, and I never will.

It's all gone, smoky eye make-up included, and his pink mop of hair has returned to brushing across his face. Did he go out? I noticed that by the doorway is his suitcase. Sakano and K must have paid my home a visit while I slumbered, returning Shuichi's luggage in exchange for the music video attire. He's returned to everyday Shuichi while napping with me: casual khaki cargo pants and an orange long sleeve top. Despite my attraction to his late night arrival in that get-up that made him appear older, I like this Shindou Shuichi more, because this is the one I don't have to share with the millions of fans across Japan.

Facing me, he's lying on his stomach like I am. All the covers on his side have been placed of top of me. I can hear every breath he takes in and feel it on the back of my hand when he exhales. There's warmth exuding from him. It's nice. I may be a cold-hearted jerk, but I'm not a cold- HEARTLESS jerk anymore, thanks to him.

What time is it anyway? I know it's day by the sunlight creeping through my curtains. Rolling over onto my back, I look over to my nightstand and see his cell phone. Reaching for the red casing, I look at the display screen. It's 3:50 PM. His whole day was practically gone, and I spent it sleeping. Shuichi may be selfish at times, but he let me sleep in. I feel a little bad. I'll have to find a way to make it up to him.

"Who are you calling?"

In surprise I flinch. He's awake, looking back at me. He smiles. I don't scowl from that innocent grin that has so much faith and trust in me. The violet orbs hold his heat, wanting to melt the frost of my eyes of gold. I'd let him if I really felt I could. He may not know it, but he's slowly succeeding.

"No one," I answer. "Did I wake you?"

"Yes, but I don't mind. Thought about biting your ear to get you up eventually."

"Do it and I'll punish you like the kid you are." There isn't a drop of harshness in my voice, though I've retreated to insults. I don't like it when he bites my ticklish ear, because this undignified sound escapes me, which is not cool of me.

"Punish me?" He's inching closer.

"I'll knock your teeth down your throat."

"Careful, you might fall asleep and miss me," he retorts. Touché.

I let out a snort. "Big mouth kid."

"I'm a licensed big mouth kid."

"You're irresponsible."

"You're a jerk." His smile grows.

"You talk too much in bed."

"And you're heavy in bed." He begins to laugh almost hysterically, but drowns out himself by covering his mouth with a pillow, squeezing his eyes tightly closed. He's missing me grinning and I make one brief sound that is the beginning of a laugh. Too bad our happy moment was interrupted.

We both go wide-eyed as his cell phone in my hand interrupts us with its noisy song. The green lamp screen comes on and informs us that God is calling.

"God!" I say aloud in my dry morning voice, an amused look of question forming. He's looking at me as if leaving it up to me to decide if Ryuichi Sakuma's call should be answered.

Passing it to him, I sit up to stretch before pushing off the blankets to rise, and they land on him with a thump. "Who am I to make you ignore a call from God?"

"Hello Sakuma!" he answers merrily while fighting his way over the covers, combing his hair with his fingers.

I can hear the energetic voice of Ryuichi Sakuma shouting, "Hey Shuichi," as I grab a charcoal sweater and pair of black pants. They're both loud vocalists with childlike minds; Ryuichi more so. Perhaps this state they both share keeps them young. Ryuichi Sakuma could easily be mistaken for a teenager. Well, seeing Shuichi at Sakuma's current age seems promising.

"Guess what?" Shuichi says as if in song. "Nope guess again. No guess again. Pocky that big would be awesome, but nope guess again. Nah, that's too weird Sakuma. Guess again!" Oh this could take a while.

"Just tell him!" I plead, rubbing my temples.

"Yeah, that's Yuki," Shuichi informs him. "He just got up. I know it's late! Really? I didn't know Kumagorou likes napping at this time." Great, I'm being compared to a stuffed animal. "When he gets up, tell him I got my driver's license. Really!"

I left the room to take a shower, shave off the stubble emerging on my face and change into my fresh clothes. I feel better now than I have in weeks. When I finished, I exited to see--and hear painfully--Shuichi was still on the phone, sitting on the couch in the living room, raving about my brother's help in getting his driver's license. I enter the kitchen to make myself some coffee, but I find it's already been made and there's groceries in the fridge and on the table. The kid must have gone out after all.

"You would love to meet him," he says. "And since he's Yuki's brother he is handsome. He's a lot of fun too. Yeah, Kumagorou would like him I'm sure. Oh! We SHOULD have lunch tomorrow. What? You'll let me drive your car up to Kyoto? Ah! Sakuma, you're so great."

What a nightmare of a meal that'll be! I better take my coffee and run. Shuichi's going to rope me into this if I don't. Him at the wheel with Ryuichi Sakuma having a sing-a-long as I prepare to jump the moment we hit 60 mph on the highway from the backseat. I don't think I could handle seeing my brother melt and create a scene at the restaurant. No, I can't be surround by the three in close quarters. "If Ryuichi Sakuma's God, I look forward to my eternity in Hell," I mutter.

"Hold on a second Sakuma," Shuichi requests. "Did you say something Yuki?" He always manages to hear any insult even when they aren't for him.

"I said, if Ryuichi Sakuma is God, I look forward to my eternity in Hell!" I shout as I pour my coffee.

Hey, he asked.

"Yu-ki!" he shouts as he blazes into the kitchen with a look of mortification. "What did you say Sakuma?" His eyes dart down as he listens and then dart back up at me with an amusing smile and he slinks his way back out of the room. "You think he is? It has been a month. Yeah you're right. Maybe we should postpone that lunch until this weekend."

Is he trying to imply I'm jealous? I certainly am not! Pardon me for trying to save what sanity I have left after living with Shuichi. Just because I don't feel like spending my time with 'God' and Tatsuha when they're better things to do with Shuichi doesn't make me jealous. I'm not jealous.

"I'm not!" I snap, heading for my office, Shuichi's laughter sounding off the walls. The black liquid in my mug tastes cold and flat. All right, if he's going to spend his time blabbering, I might as well get some work done. Setting my cup of coffee beside my laptop, I lower myself into the leather computer chair. It squeaks from my weight being in it day-after-day. Opening the top drawer, I grab my reading glasses and put them on. My original plans with Shuichi may not have been carried out but at least my writer's block is gone. The words are flying across the screen as I type. At this rate, I'll give my editor the best present she'll receive from me: my book on time. Ryuichi Sakuma's call may deserve my thanks.

"Hey Yuki!" cries Shuichi, the pounding of his arrival drawing near. 'Wham!' The door opens. I take back whatever thoughts of gratitude I had. He rushes to my desk, jumping in front of me.

"Dummy!" I yell. "You almost knocked my coffee onto my computer. Can't you be civilized if you must be irritating?"

"Don't be so stuffy," he says as I continue to type. Playfully he slides off the polished metal of my desk and leans over the armrest of my chair, wrapping his arms around my neck and nuzzling into my damp hair. It's distracting, but it's a welcomed distraction. The quick glance I risk to see what he's doing reveals his eyes are closed, as if he has missed me so much that he's trying to make a mental photograph so he won't forget. Next, he presses a cool cheek against mine to watch me type, for he hasn't been able to stop me. "You've missed me and should be acting more friendly."

"I've missed the serenity of writing in peace, you inconsiderate boy."

Oops, maybe this wasn't the right time to say a teasing insult, because he's pulls away and hops back up on the desk, crossing his arms. "Inconsiderate? I think I've been very considerate today. There's food in the fridge, I let you sleep late, and I even made you coffee."

"It's stale." Damn! Yuki, shut up. You're making it worse.

Scratching the back of his head, he lets out an awkward chuckle, and I feel lucky. "Well, I kind of made it first thing today in case you got up when I went out, but that's not the point. Oh! Look what I bought."

Shuichi opens one of the pockets on his thigh to reveal a pack of my favorite menthol cigarettes, setting them next to my coffee mug. Now I'm suspicious. He is always complaining for me to cutback--which isn't happening until time ceases to exist for me, or Shuichi loses his voice-- and now he's buying me a pack? "What did you do?"

"N-nothing."

"Shu-i-chi," I scold. "What are you hiding?"

"How could I be hiding anything? I haven't been home long enough."

"You're an abrupt tornado."

"An abrupt tornado bearing gifts."

"If you think you're so considerate, why don't you shut up so I can type?" At least I'm not suggesting he remove himself from my presence, but I don't think he'll be returning to snuggling.

"But I'm bored!" he whines. See, he wants attention. "Let's get you some sun and fun."

"Open a curtain and behave then," I suggest, briefly glancing up at him from the top of my glasses.

"Yuki!" The whining is increasing. My precious ears! "That's not what I meant. I want to spend time with you."

"The office door isn't locked."

"That's not what I meant!" he shrieks again. "We haven't been on a date in a while. We could get dinner, see a movie, take a walk in the park, get some ice cream, do a little shopping--"

"Get a stiff drink," I jokingly add.

"Aw Yuki! Come on!" he says optimistically with a smile, thinking that by pushing down the laptop screen I'll stop. "You know what we should do? Forget all that other stuff I mentioned. Too many people-- I've seen lots and lots of people all month, and well, you don't get along with people, so we will avoid people! Let's take a drive along the coast. Doesn't that sound romantic? Just drive and drive like there is nothing and no one but us."

The way he says it makes it sound tempting, but no, I must focus. Removing his hand from the metallic casing, I place it in his lap and bend the screen back to its open position. "I finally think of something to write and you're trying to pull me away? Sit and stay or do something silently alone."

He sighs deeply and kicks at my chair but I'm not perturbed. "How long do you think you'll be?"

Questions questions! His talking is not endearing right now. Last night I thought about how much I missed him, but now that he is in my office bugging me I want him out, but if he leaves I'll want him to come back and so on. Is this what a paradox is? "Maybe we can do something later tonight."

"Tonight?" he shouts as if it's several hours away instead of three. I prepare for sobs. The girl in my book is currently crying about her lover too. It speaks the future!

"All right."

My typing ceases mid-stroke. Wait, that sounded like acceptance. 'All right?' Shuichi doesn't give up without bawling. That was too easy. Now I'm really suspicious. He pushes off my desk. What? No tantrum? "Where are you going?"

"The considerate person I am, I'll grant you your peace and quiet. There're plenty of places to go and things to do between now and tonight. I'll let you work while I go out to see what Japan can offer me. I'll be back tonight. Don't eat without me!" Energetically waving goodbye, he exits walking backwards and soon after my front door slams shut.

That's got to make me feel worse. Work could have waited a little while longer. The worse part is that my refusing to take him out right-then-and-there was he _didn't_ break into tears. It's not that I want to see him weeping and huddling away in the living room, cursing that I don't care about him. But if he did break into tears, I could at least cheer him up in the end. Instead, he left happily, and I'm the one cursing myself because he has accepted doing things alone. He keeps doing things for me, when he just returned from a long month of nonstop work. I've been working too, but at least I didn't have to dictate to the needs of others, unless you count my editor.

And now he's dictating to my needs when all he wants to do is be alone with me, suggesting nothing outrageous or irritating for plans, only a drive. Did the kid actually mature within the month he was gone? Who would have thought that going to driving school to get his license would give him more discipline.

My hands suddenly slam down onto the black keys and random letter pour across my document screen as I realize his evil scheme. The little brat hasn't grown up at all. How truly deceptive he is! The cigarettes, the time for my novel, the silence were all for him. He's only being considerate to himself by making me think this was for me. And to think I felt bad for him! He plans on taking my car out for a joyride. But now that I have thought about what he's been thinking, I know what he has been up to and he isn't getting away with it.

"My car!" I holler, rushing from my chair so quickly its wheels send it crashing into the wall, but I only hear it because I've already vanished from the office in an attempt to stop Shuichi before he gets too far.

When I find Shindou Shuichi, he's dead.

TO BE CONTINUED

--


	4. I hate him

Disclaimer: Gravitation is a Sony Magazine and Maki Murakami thing.

--

I hate him.

No, I don't really hate him, but the sensible half of myself isn't under control, so my anger and rage is the only thing I can understand as I burst from the confines of my office and into the hall; hence, I am trying to hate Shuichi Shindou for having the audacity to steal my car keys and attempt to get away with driving my imported car without my permission. This isn't one of his usual wild and crazy stunts that can be easily forgiven with a small slap on the wrist and then forgotten. What he has done this time is very serious, and I have every right to be upset with him.

He lied to me.

I don't care that I'm loosing perspective over this by taking things so personally. It's not like he betrayed me with another. Something like that wasn't Shuichi's style nor was it in mine. The kid called me what seemed like a million times in his one month away from me to film music videos. He couldn't possibly ever find time to meet someone, with him being on the phone so often. Well, he did say my brother was hanging around the production set all the time and helped him study for his driving exam, but those too being a pair wouldn't happen, only because Ryuichi Sakuma is my brother's main goal in life. And if my brother did make a move on Shuichi, something he has done in the past, I wouldn't have to worry about Shuichi reciprocating. No, I'm mad at him for misleadingly acting nice with the promise of cigarettes and dinner because he probably was already feeling guilty for planning on joyriding before he did it.

And besides, I retreat into scowls and antagonism all the time. It comes most natural to me. Emotions are daunting, and whenever I seem to feel guilty or happy over Shuichi, I immediately don't know what to do with myself. Does this make me a coward? It probably does. I sometimes wonder if I'll be this way forever, and then I'm reminded that Shuichi is always around whether I want him to be or not, which makes me start to care, leading me to retreat into being cold suddenly so I don't have to acknowledge it. It's a repeating cycle, and one that I am willing to break if I tried harder.

But presently I don't think I want to be willing because Shuichi Shindou has my car keys!

For a split second I gave him the benefit of the doubt, thinking that the kid wouldn't get back at me for not taking him out when he requested of it by driving my-very-expensive-recently-cleaned-wheel-untouched-except-by-me- midnight-black-been-with-me-for-years-Mercedes Benz.

This proves his stupidity is rubbing off on me.

All signs point to bad predictions in the magic eight ball of my mind. Ask a question and you will not receive a happy fortune. His license is not on the kitchen counter where I left it. When I dash to my coat hanging in the foyer to feel inside the pockets, there is no relieving jingle of the solitary key hitting the alarm key chain. Nothing bodes well. I never misplace my keys. They are always left in my coat pocket so I can make a quick escape out of the apartment when I can no longer take staring at my work or listening to Shuichi's nonstop talking. Why must his return to me start off so very poorly? I should probably be thankful that stardom hasn't changed him and he's the same unpredictable passionate troublemaker he is. This is one time that I am not drawn to his character.

Compared to a person, I shouldn't care about a machine, especially when I know--or at least now I do--the person who is operating it. But look who is operating it! The kid is 19-years-old and can't work an oven without burning dinner. How can I put my faith in him to handle something that cost me thousands when he almost spilled coffee over the laptop that cost me hundreds? People might think this sounds vicious, thinking about money, something that Shuichi never wanted from me, but I would like to challenge those hypocrites to let Shuichi around their prized possessions and not get upset when he accidentally destroys them.

So I'm livid that such an amateurish driver would try to leave in my Mercedes to God knows where! Despite being away for a month, he couldn't have been driving for thirty days. It has to be less than that, and that worries me. His status as a celebrity may have gotten him a curve with his instructors, or maybe he did study exceptionally hard between moments at work to earn his license in such a little amount of time. Either way, he shouldn't be on the road with only a few weeks of familiarity. An accident can occur with another car or a jaywalker could get in his way. What if he gets lost or stranded with a flat on the side of the road? It was going to be dark soon and he probably never drove at night by himself.

Grabbing my cell phone from my coat pocket, my thumb quickly dials his cell as I simultaneously put on my shoes, prepared to delay him before he gets out of the building and retrieve my keys. My call goes through, but I'm hearing something that I shouldn't.

I shouldn't be hearing the annoying song his cell phone is playing. I shouldn't be hearing it coming from inside me house. I shouldn't be seeing it either, placed on the coffee table in front of the couch where he was speaking with Ryuichi Sakuma about his driver's license.

Great! Not only is Shuichi out there with my keys, but also he carelessly left behind his phone, so he can't get in touch with anyone if something goes wrong. Unless he purposely left it on the table so he wouldn't have to see my name upon the screen, knowing exactly why I'm calling. Whatever the reason, I've got to stop him.

I storm from my flat, bypassing the elevator for the stairs. Living on the sixth floor isn't going to deter me. The numbers above the elevator have progressed down towards the garage level. If that's him in the lift, he's probably thinking I would never figure out his little adventure and is jubilant. If I'm fast enough, I might be able to stop the brat from leaving the garage. Hopefully for him, he has escaped me already.

Opening the stairwell's exit to the garage, I'm immediately alerted to the sound of my car's security alarm being unarmed. That hiccupping beep is probably as worried as I am. I see the pink hair punk merrily walking to my car and opening the door, unaware of my heavily breathing presence. Descending six floors while in a rage and being an avid smoker who hasn't left the house the last few days and suddenly exerting so much pressure on one's body can make a person all the more goaded. He didn't get away with my car yet.

Yet? He isn't getting away with it at all!

Raiding up behind him just as he's about to get in, I fling my left arm around his chest, while my right hand slams the door shut and then grasps his wrist, dragging him back away from the shiny black automobile.

"Ah! Carjack!" he screams in terror. "Yuki!"

"Don't you dare call for me brat!" I hiss. "You need to be saved FROM me, not BY me."

A gasp of surprise escapes him and he goes stiff, realizing the trouble he is in. "Yuki?" he shrieks, his head jerking back to view me with a different form of terror. "W-what are you doing here?"

"Take a guess."

Swallowing hard, he begins to ramble. "I thought you wanted to work. I mean you're still wearing your glasses. You never wear them out of the office. They're flattering but they kind of draw attention to your amazing gold eyes that are really scary right now."

"You thief!" I curse. "Let go of my keys, now." Instead of doing as I order, his hand clutches onto the black key chain alarm tighter. The thumping of his heart is pounding so hard in his chest that I can feel it through his clothes and up my arm. I gave him a good startle, but he won't give up. It wouldn't be like Shuichi to not start an argument over something that could be simply resolved if he behaved properly.

Smiling nervously, he speaks with a chuckle. "Thief? Me? That's a bit harsh don't you think? I'm too sweet and tiny to look like a thief. I'm your lover remember? You can trust me."

Like he knows of my certain behavioral moments, I know of his. Stuck in a situation where I'm infuriated with him, he will do absolutely anything to get out of it and make things better. Shuichi's first attempt out of this situation: adorable innocence. Is it going to work?

Hell no!

Squeezing tighter on his wrist as we end up awkwardly dancing towards the center of the garage, I growl, "You deceptive idiot! You can't weasel your way out of this."

"Did I do something to make you upset?" he asks, trying to ease my anger with wide eyes. The gall he has to say something so--so--Shuichi!

"Yes you did something to make me upset! I should report you to the police, but I'm afraid they won't arrive in time to stop me from strangling you." Is he sweating glue? His perseverance is matching my strength. This is scary. There are times when Shuichi is only being vengeful to make me mad and there are times when he's serious. I thought it was the former, but he's holding on to that set of keys like he holds on to me when he doesn't want me to leave him in the apartment alone. This is going to be a lot harder, meaning threats and the fear of peril will have to be so powerful in order for Shuichi's death grip to open.

"I was going to bring it back," he laughs. "We have a date tonight. We were going to take that nice drive away from here and towards the coast, remember?"

"Your date tonight is with the couch, and I don't mean mine," I tell him, furrowing my brows at his absurd notion that he can turn this situation around. "Hiro can put up with you, and if you want to be in an automobile, you can take a taxi or the bus to his apartment."

That flexible body of his manages to wiggle around far enough that his elbow is poking me in the abdomen, but I'm not letting go. "Are you saying you won't let me drive your car?"

"Exactly!" I shout into his face. His features start to contort to a sad, hurtful expression. Knowing that acting cute isn't working with me, Shuichi moves on to his next choice: whining. Is it going to work?

I'm too upset to forgive that puppy face.

"No Yuki," he cries, shaking his head, rocking side-to-side to loosen my squeeze. "I want to go out!"

"You'll be out permanently if you don't return my keys."

_**Bing**_

As he leans back, we spin around and a lady with long black hair who lives in the building comes off the elevator. Both of us try to stay motionless and silent as she walks toward a bike chained up to a post. I'd let Shuichi go but he isn't going to let go of the keys.

"Let go," we both mutter in unison at the same time through clenched teeth, watching her unlock the chain. "No, you let go!"

Neither of us was quiet enough, because the young lady jolts when she sees us. Somewhere between puzzlement and alarm she stares.

"Good afternoon," Shuichi plays off of with a smile, waving hello. Glancing at the two of us, she takes a step backward, nervously waving back. At this point, a normal person would give me the keys and avoid the risk of further embarrassment, but Shuichi never is one to do what is normal. By starting this conversation with this girl, he wants me to be the first to let go. Sneaky. "How are you today?"

She flinches, caught off guard that she has to answer. "Fine. You?"

"Oh, don't mind us," Shuichi laughs. "Nothing but a lovers spat." A small forced smile forms on her face. I don't know if she recognizes who we are or not, but she doesn't look comfortable, and clearly wants to leave but is too confused to hop on to the bike seat. Mentioning us being lovers made me uncomfortable, too, despite it being public knowledge. I'm not in the mood to share our dispute over a car with a stranger. He's purposely keeping her here since he knows it. "Going out?"

"Y-yes," she manages to answer in a tiny voice, gripping the handlebars.

I can feel her looking at me, questioning what we are doing. Somehow, someway, Shuichi can cause a scene and make me feel like a total heel. "Going to meet some friends? A boyfriend perhaps?"

"No," she answers. "T-the store actually."

"Ah! The store!" Shuichi repeats enthusiastically. "I hope you are shopping for yourself. Some people don't appreciate it when you try to do something nice for them. I mean, you buy some nice food and a package of cigarettes on your day off for the one you love, and then you do one little thing to make that person mad, and they don't seem to think about the nice thing you did for them that day, especially when it isn't something you normally do."

Is the purpose of this speech to make me feel guilty? Because if it is--

It's kind of working.

"No, I just wanted to get some snacks," she responds, finishing a sentence without a stutter. Despite myself being in the room, he manages to subdue the young lady.

"Sounds yummy!" he exclaims. He's not the bit distracted, compensating for any move I make to open his hand. "I should join you. We can even take my backpack with me."

The back of her hand covers her mouth as she giggles in response to his head motion towards me being the backpack. He's pushing it. "I don't know if I have enough for all of us."

"That's okay. I bought plenty today. I stocked up on a lot of that new strawberry and vanilla marble Pocky. It's delicious to wash down with some lemon-lime soda."

"That sounds tempting," she comments. With putting her at ease, she softens and her cheeks turn a soft shade of red and she averts her eyes. "You're Shuichi Shindou and Eiri Yuki, aren't you?" Okay, she does know who we are. Her apprehension must have been because of us and not what we are doing. I'm certainly not in the mood to put up with a fan girl.

"Yes we are!" Shuichi says loudly, trying to keep his smile and ignore the painful pinch I'm giving him on his side. "Remember, I'M Shuichi Shindou and THIS is Eiri Yuki, in case you don't see me around after today. It's nice to have pretty witnesses, I mean, fans!"

"Would you two like some privacy?" I whisper into his ear as I lean forward, extremely irritated by the display he is having with this girl.

"Well you better get to the store before dark!" he says quickly. "Hope to see you around the building sometime. I really hope _I'm in _the building to see you again."

"It was a pleasure finally meeting you both," she nods.

"Have fun," Shuichi adds, waving at her again, but as if motioning to her to flee.

"O-okay," she accepts, immediately hopping on the bike and peddling away as fast as her skinny legs can go. Shuichi quickly returns his attention back to me. How does he do it?

"She seemed nice," he comments.

"Yes, maybe you can share your last meal with her," I say, jerking his hand up and down, but the keys don't drop. "Or you can maybe hop on the back of her bike and she'll take you to Hiro's place."

With all of his force, he slips down from under the arm I have around his chest, and his other hand reaches out for the silver-loop. "Please Yuki. Sarcastic comments aside, your car is so nice and fashionable. Let me borrow it. I'll take good care of it. Trust me. I can be responsible. It's just a car."

I can tell by the way his eyes dance to the object of his desire that he thinks if he pulls hard enough, the ridges of the key will dig into my hand and cause me to let go. Then when his sad violet eyes meet mine, he can tell that I'll bleed to death and that he won't even be able to pry open my cold dead hand. "It's not a Japanese car. The wheel is on the other side," I explain, pretending that makes a lot of difference.

He briefly beams and pulls my fisted hand towards him, starting a tug-of- war match. "That okay! The car I used for my driving test was from the music video and that had the wheel on the other side, so I am more familiar with it."

Damn powers that be!

"See there really isn't any reason I shouldn't be driving," he boasts, cutely winking at me.

"You mean the thought of me hating you for all of eternity isn't reason enough?" Yes, I know that was a really vicious thing to say, but the faster I end this, the quicker I can get back to serenity--if there is such a thing in my life.

Of course, I have to face the ramifications first.

"You hate me?" he sobs, whimpering. Tears weld up in his eyes. "I don't want you to hate me!" The garage enclosure only emphasizes his earsplitting cries. He isn't clutching as tightly anymore.

"I didn't say that I hate you yet," I mention, trying to get his decibels to lower an octave.

"So then you love me? If you do, you'll let me drive your car," he announces, bouncing back rather quickly.

"This isn't a game," I say. "Driving a course at your test and driving early in the morning on an empty road is different from afternoon traffic on the Tokyo roadway. You don't have much experience and you aren't insured." Suddenly he chokes back his last sob and reverts to a happy face. What? What did I say?

"You care," he smirks.

"I don't want my car being destroyed."

"No, you care about me! You love me. You don't want me driving because you're afraid something will happen to your Shu-chan."

"I'll pick my car over you any day."

"Liar," he giggles. "You love me and don't want me to get hurt."

The advantage of being tall shouldn't be used to terrorize those shorter than you, but I'm willing to go there in this situation. Raising my arm, he has no choice but to walk towards me. The kid is brave for not backing off. "If you want to drive so bad, then buy your own car."

The higher I tug, the more he has to stand on tiptoes. I bet he wishes he had those platform shoes handy from his music video. His face is showing strain, but his grip hasn't let up. He has his finger through the ring. Darn him! If I'm not careful, I'll break his finger and then I will have actually given him a reason to cry.

"I don't want my own car," he cries. Finally, one hand slips away but Shuichi clenches my gray ribbed sweater to climb. Swatting it off me, I nudge him back. "Like you said last night, I'll only have a little time to drive. And besides, I want to drive Yuki's car because I love Yuki!"

When he refers to me in the third person during his fits, I weaken. He always wants me, anything that does with me, and only me. He has clearly stated before that I'm his. Why must he be so loving and enduring? That's not fair. Sensing my moment of vulnerability, he jumps to snatch my hand down, sliding the key from my hold.

"Oh no!" I bark, making another rush at him, but he cleverly runs around my car towards the trunk, leaving me at the hood. We both firmly plant our hands on the black paint job, staring at each other intently. There's a small smirk on his face. I can't believe he's finding this entertaining! "This is pointless. You'll never make it out of this garage as long as I'm here."

"Then I suggest you hop in on the passenger side," he says. Okay, second phase of Shuichi continues to loom on his face, but his third stage begins to surface: smart-ass. Is it going to work?

Well, usually I'd find it engaging, like it was when we were in bed, but the kid has my keys and is licensed to drive a moving frame of steel--a very pricey frame of steel. He hasn't won me over with his other powers. I don't think he has a chance.

"I want to hop in on the driver's side and run you over," I threaten.

"Can't do that without these, Yuki," he retorts, jingling the keys like I'd stoop to the level of a cat being teased. He better be careful or I'll claw his violet eyes right out of his deceptive head.

I make a dash to the left in hopes of trapping him, but he's slender enough to fit through the space between the bumper and wall and make just as fast of a dash to his left. Now I'm peering over the roof at him and he's trying to anticipate my next move.

"Shuichi Shindou," I admonish in a very demanding tone, sidestepping to the left.

"Eiri Yuki," he mimics, sidestepping to his left.

"Hand over the keys."

"I can't. You're too mad at me."

"I'll still be mad at you."

"But at least I can still make an attempt to get you un-mad."

"You've got as good of a chance succeeding there as you do driving my car," I sneer.

"Then I have a chance!" he cheers, tossing my keys up in the air before snatching at them. Is he saying what I think he's saying?

"You've already driven my car!" What's that I hear? Oh, it's my blood bubbling in my head. I wonder how much more I can take before that vein in my temple explodes.

"Now Yuki, don't get mad," he warns, patting his hands in the air. "Well, don't get _more _mad. I didn't have the heart to wake you this morning, but we needed food in the house. There's no way I could carry so many bags home. It can be really heavy. As you can see, the car is in perfect condition. You would have noticed if I did something wrong. And I bought you cigarettes."

"Only because you felt guilty!"

"Yuki, I wanted to spend time with you, so I did all the work first," he explains, pointing a finger at me, "but then you wanted to work and I wanted to go out, so we can both get what we want."

"What I want is my car keys," I demand, holding out my hand, stepping to my right to meet him at the front of the car.

It's over. He frowns, and his shoulders slump forward in defeat. I held strong, and I'm remaining stern. It may not be fair to scold him; after all, there are no apparent scratches or dents, and the interior remains clean of strawberry Pocky crumbs and annoying fuzzy dice hanging off the dashboard mirror. However, Shuichi will get over this soon enough, hopefully learning a valuable lesson.

Turning the set over in his hands, he pouts and it's like he's saying goodbye. Then reluctantly, he sighs, reaching out to return what he took. I can only imagine the terror the rest of this day will be like. Perhaps I should kick him out for the evening. It will be easier for me to pass Shuichi off to Hiro, and his best friend can listen to his crying about how I'm a jerk. We don't get along and sometimes I wonder if my former fiancée or Shuichi is on his mind more, but I'm sure Hiro wouldn't want him driving his motorbike either.

"Wait," Shuichi interjects, pulling the keys away.

"What?" I inquire, slamming my fist down on the car's hood.

"Tell me Yuki," he begins, and the immediate feeling of being backed into a corner arises. "Which do you care for more: your car or me?"

"Don't start. Just give me the keys," I order. This question has as much good as showing Shuichi attention. There's no way I can get out of this without chaos of some sort ensuing. He's not crying this time. By that determined look on his face, he wants an answer.

"No," he defies, grabbing the neckline of his orange shirt and dropping the keys.

"What do you think you're doing?" Apparently, this isn't over like I thought. The kid won't quit.

"Answer me Yuki," he orders.

"You're not a girl," I huff. "You don't have any cleavage--"

"But I dropped the keys down my undershirt and you don't want to try to grope me in a public garage," he interrupts, crossing his arms defiantly, appearing smug. "You don't want another person seeing us in another compromising position, do you?"

"You brat--" I voice through clenched teeth.

"The brat or you Mercedes: which do you care for more?" he asks, walking backwards away from the car, patting at the place on his stomach were my keys are.

"Give me my keys," I warn, watching him go back.

"Answer me and get a prize," he jokes. So engrossed in waiting for my answer, he's not paying attention to the incoming speeding car.

"Shuichi!" I cry, hurrying for him. Seeing the headlights, he freezes in a gasp. Snatching his forearm, I pull him towards me, and the idiot who wasn't watching where he was going drives out of the garage, tires screeching. Clinging to me as tight as he did my keys, he shivers. I don't really want to call it a brush with death, but I admit I have that heart-in-my-throat feeling.

My charcoal sweater is firmly within his clutches, and I run a hand through his mess of pink hair. "Hey, you're okay," I tell him lightly, and he stops shivering, but hasn't let go. "Shuichi?"

"Yuki?" he mutters into my sweater.

"Hmm?"

Hysterical laughing erupts and he looks up at me with eyes of adoration. The arms I had wrapped around him are now frantically trying to pry him off of me. "I knew it! Yuki loves me. Yuki loves me," he bursts into song. "More than his car, he loves me."

"Whoa! Idiot! Get the Hell away from me this instant."

Squeezing tighter, the keys can be felt through his cotton shirt. The elation he's feeding off of by gripping me must allow him to ignore it prodding into his stomach. Being the klutz and irresponsible irritancy he is, he must be immune to most forms of pain. "This proves it! You saved me from being flattened--"

"I saved the keys in your shirt from being flattened," I counter.

"And you are scared--" he continues, obviously not listening to me.

"Scared for my car--" I add, but my voice is getting softer.

"--that I'll get hurt--"

"You're delusional!" This scene is getting of hand. Where is the girl on the bike? I could rethink my lifestyle and go with her if it'll get him to stop.

"--so you don't want me uninsured out there unless you come with me--"

"I have no plans to die thank you very much."

"Admit it Yuki," he orders with a grin, lightly pounding his fists on my chest. "You worry about me. You're scared about what might happen to me."

Forcefully I grab both of his wrists, lifting them over his head and sweeping one of his legs, sending him into a sprawl on his back over my car's hood. Not seeing that coming, he looks panicky. It's not out of fear, at least not completely. We both know I would never hurt him physically. There is the frequent rough sex, but that's another story. No, this apprehension is for another reason.

"Yuki--" he mumbles. This is probably the quietest Shuichi's been this entire time.

"Shut up," I say firmly but softly. With no means of sitting up while my hands pin his wrists above him, he complies. "I care about you, and yes I don't want you out on the road when you haven't been driving long enough, especially at night. You don't have to compare yourself to a car to hear me say that."

Immediately I pause, thinking about what I just said. I've caught myself off guard with such emotional sentiment. He smiles at me weakly. Honestly, with him being away all of last month at his video shoot and me trying to finish my novel, I hadn't said how I felt about him for quite a while. Shuichi should know that I deeply care for him, but I have to remind myself that he seeks the loving words he showers me with all the time. However, I'm retreating into myself to make a point to him. "But you are not driving away in that car when you have to resort to taking my keys without my knowledge."

"S-sorry Yuki," he says, looking at me right in the eye. He means it. I'd apologize to him about choosing work over that nice drive to the coast he suggested, doing so drove him to take my keys. However, I can't apologize now or we'll be back to where we started, and I'm NOT repeating this.

There's one thing left to do.

Letting go of his wrists, I proceed to lift up his orange shirt and the white T-shirt underneath. "Yuki!" he shouts in response, both of his hands coming down to clench at the hem.

"Shut up," I whisper, having no choice but to lean closer to him to avoid stretching his shirt out of shape and ripping it. His breath is fogging up my glasses.

"B-b-but Yuki," he whispers loudly, "what if someone sees--" For one acting so bashful, he isn't putting up much of a struggle, sliding his hands away from his shirt and onto the car. Does he like this?

"Oh! Are you afraid someone might find us in a compromising position?" I say with a raised eyebrow, repeating his earlier words as I successfully slip my hand up his shirt. "Wouldn't grope you in public, huh?"

A quick laugh breaks his nervous demeanor as I brush against a ticklish spot on his warm, smooth skin, but he shakes his head to stop. "T-this is inappropriate!"

"Idiot!" I chide, pulling my hand out with keys in grasp, waving them across his face. "I wouldn't reward you after what you did today."

"I thought it was going to be a punishment," he comments, sliding down to the concrete in what I think is relief from public eyes and slander the moment I move away, his comeback making me smirk. I'm not insulted that he is thankful no one saw us, because I'm confident enough that if I did the indecent act, he wouldn't have any complaints afterwards. Besides, Shuichi doesn't need sex to be happy with me. Knowing I'm dedicated to him and simply being around makes him content. That's all he ever truly wanted from me.

Why must he now want the car?

"Though you won't let me drive Yuki, I want you to know I'm a good driver," he adds.

"You didn't take your cell phone with you," I point out flatly. "How are you suppose to get in touch with anyone if something happens, Mr. Good Driver?"

He pats the various pockets of his cargo pants, searching for the phone that I know is not there. "Oh, I forgot it," he says, staring at me with mouth agape.

"Yes, you did." He continues to look up at me, blinking in thought. "What?" I question, pressing the button on the key chain to lock the doors and reset the alarm, the hiccupping beep confirming it is active.

"I forgot my phone," he mutters. "No wonder you don't want me to have the car keys."

I'm not sure what he's getting at, but I decide not to ask. Placing the keys in my pants pocket, I decide that it will be best to keep them on me at all times. Reliving this again is not occurring in this lifetime. Removing my glasses, I wipe the condensation he made with the hem of my sweater, as I bid farewell to my car and Shuichi's limp body on the ground. I'll leave it up to him to decide whether or not he will come home tonight.

But suddenly, I feel like I've done something wrong by walking away. Have I? The magic eight ball in my head tells me that all signs point to yes.

"Sakuma and K-san don't mind me driving their cars," he mopes. The elated tone in his voice is slowly diminishing, and I'm not sure why.

"Sakuma has an apparent mental condition and K has a gun to shoot himself with," I explain jokingly, pressing the up button on the elevator.

"They probably don't mind since they're in the car with me," he says. "That way they know exactly where I am and their cars. You wouldn't have been able to get in touch with me because I didn't remember as something as important as my cell phone."

Perhaps I should take the stairs if he plans on dragging this out forever, but the numbers are once more declining to the garage's level so I'll wait. Shuichi likes to mope when he loses, but he'll get over this like he always does.

"What you said about worrying where I was meant a lot to me Yuki. I'm glad to know you care even if you don't trust me with your things," he says heedlessly.

_**Bing**_

The elevator door slides open, but I'm only half way through when I hear what he said. With one foot into my means of escape and one on the concrete where he is behind me, I simply stand there. Those words sounded too resigned, as if he considered I thought so little of him and it didn't matter. Is this a part of his pouting or does he really mean it? The elevator door will promptly close the moment I enter the lift or choose to go to Shuichi and find out if he was being serious.

"Yuki?" he questions, obviously wondering what I'm doing.

The moment I hear him, I take a step forward, and I don't even have time to turn around to see him across the way as the elevator door shuts like I predicted, and my hand unconsciously pushes in the button for my floor.

The means of me being upset has changed. Shuichi's lying to me had nothing to do with it this time. Admitting of his wrongdoing was enough, and I had assumed I would have been fine once I had my keys. Shuichi would whine but he would come home

Now my keys were in my pocket, but I'm listening to the sound of the elevator's ascent alone, leaving Shuichi in the garage to decide whether he would be joining me later. I retreat into my cold, angry self like I always do when I begin to show loving emotions towards Shuichi. I'm a hypocrite. I love him smiling, and I don't want him to be sad, but when it comes to me having the opportunity to tell him that I do trust him and all the other things that would make him happy, I don't take it.

"I'm a coward," I mutter.

_**Bing**_

**_--_**

Back in my office, I lean against the armrest of my computer chair, my elbow propped on it, as I hold down the backspace key and watch the flashing cursor move backwards through my document, deleting all the random letters that spilled across the screen before I went after Shuichi and my keys. Resting my chin in my hand, I check the time. It's been forty-five minutes according to the clock in my task bar in the lower right hand corner of my screen since I returned to my flat; clearly seeing night has fallen outside my window. Shuichi never followed me and I never went to see if he was still down in the garage. Telling him to go to Hiro's as many times as I did must have convinced him to pay his friend a visit. I waited in the living room for a while, smoking a cigarette from the pack he bought me, and then ate in the kitchen, before ending up in my office.

Here I am, thinking about Shuichi and getting absolutely no work done. I'm too awake to try to sleep for it won't matter in the least with my thoughts the way they are. I'm not in the mood to go out anywhere, because to leave the apartment would mean I would have to go to the garage to get the car I just finished arguing over with Shuichi, and if I made it to the car, I risk him coming home to an empty apartment, while I think about him somewhere else than here.

All there is to do is continue to think. I start off mad at him, and somehow, like always, he gets me to break down my walls and admit things to him like how much I care and worry about him. The Mercedes was what I thought I was most concerned with, not wanting Shuichi to take it and ruin the expensive imported car. In the end, he got me to confess it was he who was my most concerned. I believe Shuichi shouldn't be driving with his lack of knowledge behind the wheel, and he fizzled it down to me not trusting him.

But wasn't that what I was thinking when I went after him?

No, I do trust Shuichi. I admitted that to myself when I thought about him being away for a month and having the opportunity to meet someone else, even if it was someone like my brother, and knowing he wouldn't ever do that. It was only that I didn't want him out on the road with no phone to contact him and no insurance to keep him safe. Even when I went after him it was because I was concerned something might happen to him like being lost or stranded, but I was too upset to realize that it was about him and not the car. Stupid me.

This situation can't be easily resolved by giving him the keys and telling him to go have fun. I trust him, but all who know Shuichi knows that giving him to much trust might make him do something irresponsible or foolish. I want to keep both my car and my Shuichi safe, and there isn't anything wrong with that. But I'm not good at dealing with feelings, another thing not easily resolved.

I'm not going to be a coward the next time that is for sure. Pounding my left fist on the other armrest, I promise myself to not let the next time end up a repeating cycle of today.

It was still wrong what he did. He shouldn't have taken my keys without my permission, and he shouldn't have drove to the store in my car even if it was for food we needed. I'm going to let him stay at Hiro's tonight as his punishment to think about what he did.

But now my punishment is to stay here on a Friday night and think of how I'm going to resolve this situation, something that seems long from over at the moment.

TO BE CONTINUED

--


	5. I am a romance writer

Disclaimer: Gravitation is a Maki Murakami and Sony Production. This story would just like to sweat in their shadow.

--

I am a romance writer.

For such a simple sentence, most people assume a lot. They think that I have millions of amorous ideas swirling around in my head, be able to write wooing poetry on a whim, and entice the mind, having the pick of whatever lover I want. From my point of view, these people don't know me at all. In fact, these are things they only think about after one obvious factor: my looks. It isn't vanity on my part. The thing that I used to hate while I was growing up has presently become the first detail that keeps my famous status. Some critics--I call them the Morons on the nice days--have labeled my success being obtained more by my attractiveness than by my writing skills.

Being a blond Japanese man is unusual, and in a place like Japan, sometimes the unusual is alluring, when you're not a child at least. I always wondered if it was a defect or perhaps I had American or European blood in my family history, though my two other siblings look very Japanese. Maybe it is the curse of the middle child or being the eldest son that has forever marked me with eyes of uncommon hazel-gold. Once my career as a writer picked up, I didn't think about my appearance as a demeaning flaw. Essentially it is a staple to my life.

Not to say that I'm not a good writer. I admit that as my books progress, I've become more interested in writing what will make my fans happy over what makes me proud, but even that has made me more renowned in my country. Most romance critics-- minus the Morons who belittle my novels as nothing but a way to get my face out there--enjoy my work, I've received many literary awards, and my editor and publishing company are striving to have my novels available in America. My understanding of romance that sells up to now has my stories being filled with steamy sex scenes, tragedy and the occasional character being murdered or committing suicide. But as for that spiel of amorous ideas and enticement, well, I'm starting to wish that those thoughts people had of me were truer than reality, because right now I'm far from sounding like any of those words.

It's common knowledge to Shuichi and my family that when I do finally get some sleep--one not helped by that of prescription drugs--that I could be dead to the world until I decide to resurrect myself or someone tries long enough to awaken me. Initially, I wasn't tired, but I do remember it was almost after midnight when my thoughts were starting to become muddled. Exhausting myself over Shuichi drove me to it. I had fallen asleep in my computer chair, simmering over what to do about my situation with Shuichi and the ordeal with the car. It's my own discomfort that has disturbed my slumber. My neck hurts from not resting on a pillow. My back aches from sitting up this entire time. Everything in the room remains untouched. The coffee, very stale and undrinkable, is next to my laptop, which is in a slumber of its own, hibernating with a black screensaver. My story didn't progress any further.

Seems not only do I have writer's block, but also life's block.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I curse under my breath. I've come up with nothing. Absolutely nothing! Sitting here in my office all night brought no rewards. There isn't one solution to my problem. The problem is clearly stated: I need a way to prove to Shuichi I do trust him without giving him my Mercedes and letting him be off on his merry way. When I repeat the problem, the easiest solution is to just tell him I trust him and give him the car.

In there lies the other problem. Doing so would defeat the purpose of scolding him over the car. I don't want him to get the idea that I'll give in to anything he does wrong, like taking my car without my permission, by saying something hurtful. After all, Shuichi would never say such things unless he meant it. And this time, he does. If I give in, forever will I have to live with the fact that he thinks I see him in that light. For someone like me, who is known to hide his feelings, it is almost laughable that I'm mulling over a way to express them.

Writing romance and doing something romantic are two very different things in my book. Writing is all about fantasy, so practically as long as I don't cross the line into the misinterpretation of history or porn (I could quote both from the Morons), I am fine. I don't like the actual act of romance. It isn't me, despite how well I write it. Cut straight to the point and leave out all the fluff, I say. Why does one have to convey their feelings towards another through moonlight walks, candlelight dinners, and surprise getaways? And why do people have to constantly say mush about love to let a person know they care? Isn't being with them enough?

It's so much easier to be mad at Shuichi, and my mind is already trying to dismay me. Listening to my heart is difficult, but I'm not giving up yet.

Besides, romance wouldn't work. It won't solve a thing. If we went for our drive along the coast like we planned, we'd sit there in total silence. I know that is the one thing I usually want, but I would like Shuichi to be naturally quiet, and not saying anything because he is mad at me. Avoiding the issue with a special dinner or date of any sorts will eventually make him bring it up sooner or later. I have a hard time saying the words, "I love you," as it is. It's not that I don't. I do. It's not something easy for me to say, and he knows my past well enough to understand, but occasionally he'll bring it up.

And I refuse to write poetry! Formal poetry would be lost on him. I could practically scribble anything down and he'd find it the best thing in the world.

First and foremost, I'll have to get myself out of this chair, if I plan on doing anything at all. "What time is it?" I groan, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and tapping the tiny mouse pad on my laptop to wake it up. Immediately when I see the time in the taskbar, I fully awaken.

"12:31?" This was worse than falling asleep on Shuichi the previous day. While it wasn't as late, I've let the pink haired kid alone without any acknowledgements for almost an entire day. I get up from my chair, thinking that maybe he has come home on his own and is sulking in one of the other rooms, waiting for me. Leaving my office, I quietly walk to the living room, the most obvious place he'd be. I don't want to seem overly excited about him being here. The curtains to my balcony are open, flooding the afternoon sun into every space. The sun doesn't illuminate Shuichi.

From there, I check the other rooms: the kitchen; the bathroom; the bedroom. No Shuichi. I'm not worried. Practically ordering him to Hiro's place, I'm sure he is still there. No longer do I want him to be in the company of his friend, and while my better judgment tells me I should let him stay there, considering I haven't thought of any thing to resolve yesterday, I will feel more comfortable in taking the first step by getting him back here.

Back to the living room I go, rubbing my tired shoulder muscles as I try to think of that guitarist's phone number. Shuichi constantly tells me "we should know the important numbers of each others family and friends by heart." He knows the numbers to my family's temple in Kyoto, my brother's cell, and my sister's home with Tohma by heart, and I didn't give him any of them! I don't keep them on speed dial either, for I don't like calling them. He has his ways, doesn't he?

As for me, I care as much about the numbers to his best friend's apartment as I do my speed dial. Figures the one time I need it, I hear Shuichi's voice in the back of my head. "By heart--" I pronounce, picking up my phone and staring at the receiver. The area code is 03; I know that, for we live in Tokyo. The other numbers are a fog.

That's when it catches my eye: Shuichi's cell phone, on the coffee table, where he left it after talking to Ryuichi Sakuma and where I left it when rushing after him and my car. Scolding him for carelessly leaving it is now paying off. Putting down the receiver and picking up the red cell, I go into his phone book, scrolling down the alphabetical list. Boy, he has a lot of numbers. I recognized some of them as names of buildings, mostly because Tohma is not only my sister's husband, but also the president of the record company that signed him and Bad Luck. By each name are those emoticons, picture icons of smiley faces and other graphics. By the looks of it, Shuichi is using them for ratings. There are a lot of happy and sad faces lined up next to his work numbers. When I get to Hiro's name, he has five happy faces. I expected nothing less for the longhaired brunette.

I'm about to hit the green ENTER button when my curiosity gets the best of me. Instead of calling Hiro right away, I continue to scroll down the list until I see my name. It's mushy. Five hearts lined next to it. Yep, mushy, though I let out a snort with a twinge of a smile.

Resuming my phone call, I await for an answer, pacing in front of my balcony glass doors. This shouldn't take long. After Hiro picks up the phone, he'll immediately give it to Shuichi, who I'll request come home and that is that. I'll have plenty of time to think of what I want to do, but until then, I want Shuichi home with me.

"Hey Shuichi!" comes the familiar, happy voice of Hiroshi Nakano. "What's up?"

My brows are furrowing together and I stop pacing. It's perplexing. What a peculiar way to answer the phone, unless--

"Shuichi? You there?" he asks impatiently, but still kind.

"This is Eiri Yuki," I finally announce.

"Yuki?" he inquires, seeming as confused as I am. We both go quiet. Just because Shuichi is Hiro's best friend, doesn't mean we are. I don't talk to him (frankly I don't want to), and I'm sure by those sharp dagger looks he gives my way (mostly in response to the ones I give him) he feels the same way. "Why are you calling on Shuichi's phone?" I didn't expect us to have a friendly conversation, where we greet each other with "good afternoon" and "how are you today?"

"I was calling for Shuichi," I state, my voice peppered with displeasure. "He's not there?"

"No," he says, dragging out his answer. "Why should he?"

That friendliness he answered the phone with isn't there now. He was bitterly implying, "what did you do?" in that last question of his. I should have hung up on him right there and then, but I thought maybe he was attempting to make me suffer somehow, when Shuichi was actually there. Then again, if Shuichi was there and told him what happened, I figured Hiroshi would side with ME this time. If I recall correctly, he and their other band mate Suguru were urging him to get off the phone while he was driving them home from the Kyoto music video shoot in K's car.

"Put him on," I demand in my usual flat voice, not wanting to become panicky.

"He's not here," he answers. "You don't know where he is?"

I didn't want to admit I didn't, but it was obvious when I thought he was at Hiroshi's this entire time. Now I'm starting to worry. "No. He didn't stop over there?"

"I haven't been home," he explained. "I only got in about fifteen minutes ago. I stayed at my parents' place."

"He must have gone to work," I say, not knowing whether I was assuring him or myself.

"Not possible," Hiro quickly denounces. "I stopped by NG Records on my way home to return my clothes from the music video, and I didn't seem him."

"Doesn't mean he wasn't there," I retort on the defense.

"Doesn't mean he was," he complains.

Taking another look around the living room, there is no fresh indentations in the couch, cups on the coffee table, or any other sign that Shuichi came back during the night. When I had checked the bedroom earlier, his things remained packed in his luggage, and the bathroom was as tidy as I left it. Shuichi left no trace in the kitchen either. No matter how upset he was he would have told me where he was going if he didn't go to Hiro's.

"He hasn't called you?" Brushing a hand through my hair, I don't feel like continuing this discussion. It won't go anywhere beyond questions and it'll be less painful on me if Shuichi tells him the story later. "Yuki?" The perfect way out of this conversation soon arises.

My main phone starts to ring, and immediately my mind says, "Shuichi." It is something about him, I know it, but I feel a familiar cloud of dread coming over me. "I've got to go," I tell him.

"Hey, wait--" Hiro protests, but I hang up on him before he can finish.

Instead of jumping across the room for the phone, I slowly make my way over to it, putting Shuichi's phone back on the coffee table. My shadow looms over the ringing device. Something inside me wants to not pick it up, but I swallow it down, and grab the receiver. I already know that this phone call will have nothing to do with romance or my career.

"Hello?"

TO BE CONTINUED

--


	6. I loathe the telephone

Disclaimer: People who do not include myself own Gravitation. I'm saving every last dime I have for my next anime convention; so don't sue a girl with only dimes.

--

I loathe the telephone.

That incessant machine has never been my friend. If it wasn't a necessity at times, I'd never keep one around, let alone two in my flat and a cell phone in my coat pocket. The respect I have for the inventor of the answering machine is high. I'm not trying to lock myself away from the world, despite my behavior saying otherwise. If I want to reach out and touch someone, I'll do it when I have a good reason. Calling Shuichi's friend Hiro was proof enough for that point, taking into account we aren't friends.

Shuichi calls me all the time. He calls to tell me to not eat dinner without him. He calls when he is going to be late from work, even when that means only five minutes, as if I'll die from him not screaming at the top of his lungs, "Yuki, I'm home!" at exactly 6:00PM, followed by the wall shaking door slam. He'll bother me for no reason out of the blue to interrupt me in the middle of my work to tell me about the slightest insignificant thing that happened to him, or about how much he misses me, just like he did when he was in Kyoto.

That's why I'm worried that he hasn't called to tell me where he is, since he is not at Hiro's.

I've hung up on his best friend to answer my own home phone, knowing the call has something to do with Shuichi, but at the same time, I know that one of the many reasons I hate this communicating machine has arisen.

When I was younger, my father was grooming me to run our family's temple in Kyoto. As the eldest son, it was my duty to take over upon his death, settling down with a wealthy girl named Ayaka they arranged for me to marry, so I can continue the Uesugi name (obviously I've taken my life in a different direction and Ayaka is now dating Hiroshi). When I wasn't at home, I was at school. Being a Japanese boy who didn't look Japanese brought more shunning than friendly conversations. I played with my younger brother, Tatsuha, more often than kids my own age, especially since our mother died when he was very little. Our older sister Mika decided to take over that role. But with my sister acting like a boss and my brother being seven years younger than me, I spent a lot of time of my free time by myself, reading novels of all kinds. After all, I didn't have friends at school calling me to interrupt my pious father's boring lectures. It wasn't until Tohma, a friend of the family, started arranging plans to take me to America that I had a reason to call anyone. However, the phone never rang for me much, which was why I hated it.

Today, I dislike the machine for the opposite reason. Shuichi is the only one who doesn't call to hassle me about the way I run my life. Well, most of the time. My sister calls to relay my father's messages to drop my life as a romance novelist, shave my head and come back to Kyoto, meanwhile telling me about my poor choice in lovers, forsaking the family name for Yuki, and for avoiding her husband's phone calls, so he can add his two cents in about my life. How I wish she would retire from her motherly and sisterly ways! It's irritating at this point in my 23-year-old life. She can be such a bitch. I know it isn't kind to call my sister such a bold word, but if the shoe fits...

And when Mika and Tohma decide to butt out of my life, my editor calls. She spends more time talking to my answering machine than me. Constantly the overly cheerful woman wants to know when I'll come see her to talk about my book or to remind me of my deadlines. We plan these things months in advance, but that doesn't stop her. She is the friendliest lady I know, so I don't have anything terrible to say about her. However, I think she worries too much about my career.

The dark cloud always comes when they call, but they are not the deliverers this time. There is only one other person who enjoys bothering me, and unlike Mika, Tohma and my editor, he does it out of pleasure for himself: my brother, Tatsuha.

"Aniki!" his deviously youthful voice cheers, calling me his elder brother as if he had actual respect for the title. "I'm glad you actually answered the phone."

"My mistake, Tatsuha" I retort, already wishing to end his supercilious talk before it starts. "Goodbye."

"W-w-wait, Aniki!" he stutters to stop me, though it sounds more like out of delight than panic, which gives me new reason to be concerned. Tatsuha may not call me often, but when he does, it usually means he wants to share news he'll think will make me jealous or furious at him. The latter rings more true. "I have something in my possession that you might want."

"A warrant for your execution?" I quip, flopping down on the couch with a silent sigh, picking up the package of cigarettes and my lighter located next to my ashtray. I haven't smoked one since yesterday evening in my office, drowning my thoughts into what Shuichi said to me in the garage. This time I require this cigarette to calm my nerves for a different reason.

Tatsuha suspiciously snickers at my words. "Dear Aniki, you wouldn't wish such a thing on your baby brother, would you? You would be depriving the beautiful women of this world my handsome face and intoxicating charm." Clearly my brother has a tendency to think highly of himself. He's sixteen years old going on seventeen, with charm I would not define as intoxicating, but womanizing. My father doesn't have a clue that his monk-in-training youngest son spends most of his free time away from school and the temple romancing woman both young and old and that's when he isn't attending Nittle Grapser concerts with his friends. Sporadically he won't eye the opposite sex and take an interest in his own, though he claims to be saving himself for one very special man, the one Nittle Grasper member he has pasted posters of in his room. As for his handsome face, I don't criticize that aspect for a certain reason, and once again, it doesn't have to do with vanity.

My little brother and I look exactly the same… facial structure to be more specific, making him look older than he is. My brother is a reminder of what I would look like if my hair and eyes weren't the color they were. He has midnight black hair, cut exactly like mine, and the darkest brown eyes I've ever seen, almost ebony. Those were the features I wanted when I was his age, and there are times when I look in the mirror that I still do, but Shuichi assures me that he thinks I'm the coolest looking guy he has ever seen and wouldn't want me to change a thing. Besides our appearance, I'd say that is all we had in common. He trains to be a monk, but he'd sell his soul and our family temple to the Devil to get what he wants. I'm sure of it. Certain days he calls, begging me to come home and tell father I will be taking over the temple, but only because he doesn't want to be the one to give up his love for Nittle Grasper and worldly delights to live a life on the straight and pure road. Tatsuha is a good kid when he isn't being stupid. He doesn't want to shame my father like I did by leaving. He isn't old (or should I say mature) enough to live out on his own, though he has a secluded section of our family's temple all to himself. It is terrible to say this, but I think Tatsuha is waiting out our father's life. He probably feels better shaming him in death than to his face.

"I know I called you about a week ago to give you an update about your little toy's time up here in Kyoto--" he begins.

"He was the one who suggested me to tell you to pay him a visit, not to camp out there everyday!" I snap, immediately taking a long drag from the lit cigarette to put some brain cells out of their misery.

"Whatever," he avoids with indifference. I can tell he is outside at the back of his home, because I can hear the tiny fountain water hitting the pond behind my father's temple, and Tatsuha dropping stones in it to scatter the goldfish like he did when we were kids. "You know, we should talk more often. Even better, you should come and pay me a visit. I know we will have so much to do together, Aniki! Hope I'm not being to sudden."

With each passing word, he is getting more irritating. My brother is getting pertinacious in telling me whatever he has to tell me, hiding behind some falsehood of wanting to see his _Aniki_. My cigarette between my fingers, I rub my forehead and clench my eyes tightly closed, as I lean my head back to rest on the sofa. "Is there a point to you disturbing me, or are you harassing me in order to waste both our time and money with this irrelevant conversation, when I have something more pressing at the moment?"

"_Harassing_? _Irrelevant_?" he repeats. "Oh no Aniki! I think you will be very interested into what I've found, or should I say found me?"

"I'm hanging up--," I start to threaten.

"Did you wake up this morning missing something?" he interrupts merrily, plunking another stone into the water. "Or someone perhaps? It's the only reason I can think of why you wouldn't want to stay on the line with me."

"I can think of many," I murmur.

"Guess who is sleeping in my bed, Goldilocks?" he questions smugly, cutting straight to the point with a smirk that can be sensed through the phone. My eyes fly open. At least now I know where Shuichi is. What was the kid thinking? Kyoto is over 300 miles away from Tokyo. There were many choices the idiot could have stayed for the night, since Hiro couldn't accommodate him while he was at his parents' home. He could have stayed at his own parents' home, but instead he decides to go all the way to my parent's home in Kyoto! Tatsuha has my attention, and he has stopped badgering the pond fish because he knows it as well. If there is anything my brother likes more (not counting Ryuichi Sakuma), it is getting a reaction out of people.

"Take it easy on him. He's still newly broken-in," I comment with sarcasm.

He snorts in dissatisfaction, knowing I clearly see through his stunt to get me riled. There isn't a chance Shuichi would travel all night long to Kyoto to cheat on me with my brother. It isn't in him, and he only sees my brother as family. My brother on the other hand likes Shuichi as a friend, but when others aren't around to referee him, Tatsuha starts seeing Shuichi's resemblance to Ryuichi and wants to play make-believe. If he can't have the real thing, he will settle for the taste of my lover, but Shuichi and I won't let him.

"Well," he sighs, losing that cocky elation of his, "he just got here a few hours ago. He should have been here way before that, but he got lost trying to find his way here and he ended up having to call me from a payphone to give him directions. Not bad for his first trip up here by himself. He was only a few blocks away. I had to sneak him past Dad to get him to my room. I don't think he would be ecstatic to have him staying here."

"You won't have to worry about it, because you're going to wake him up and put him back on the Shinkansen," I instruct to him. Shuichi always wants to visit my dad when he is Kyoto, but I know the old man would be less than thrilled to see the loud mouth vocalist.

"Oh he didn't take the Shinkansen," Tatsuha continued. He didn't take the bullet train? Of course, if he did, he would have arrived in Kyoto much earlier than he did. Shuichi's an unpredictable tornado, but not even he has enough energy to run such a distance. I tap my pants pocket. Keys to the Mercedes are there. Did he rent a car?

"This can't get any worse," I mumble to myself.

"And I'm not sending him back," he adds virtuously.

"What?" I hiss, sitting up, shaking my hand for my cigarette has burned my fingers. It just got worse.

"Nope, not doing it," he laughs, finally getting a reaction he desired. "He may be a weird guy, but I know he wouldn't drive here if it wasn't to make a point. I wouldn't want to ruin it for him. He was going to call you to tell you where he was, and then drive home. But then kind and generous me convinced him to take a nap, while I give you a call instead." His conceited behavior is sickening. Obviously he's doing this for himself. "Of course, I forgot to ask him before he went to sleep how long he had rented the car. I know he has money, but I didn't want it to look bad for Bad Luck's lead singer to return the car late and have to pay a late fee, so I decided to return it while he slept."

"It wasn't like a book being returned to the library you demented bastard," I bark. "You did that on purpose to keep him there."

"Who? Me?" he questions innocently. "That wasn't my intention at all. I thought I would help my friend Shuichi and my Aniki with their problem. Shu told me about what he did with your car, though I'm not sure why exactly he came all the way to Kyoto. I guess you can tell me when you come to get him and pay me a visit."

"Visit?" I laugh at the preposterous notion. Kyoto isn't where I want to be right now. Yes, I want Shuichi back, but I didn't plan on spending time with him and with my brother. I want to be nowhere near that city. "If you want to spend so much time with him in hopes of getting closer to your God, Ryuichi Sakuma, you can drive him back here yourself."

"I guess I could," he commences with a peculiar tone of implication, "but then I'd have to let father know why I was taking my car into Tokyo to come and see you. And then I have to explain why Shu has been in my room this entire time, and that might not sit well with him. He might call Mika, who I'm sure will like to visit the both of us when I come over your place to spend the night after making the long drive in the heavy traffic, unless I let Shuichi borrow my car to drive himself home in that mess, though I'll still have to explain to father why my car is gone and--."

"All right you little pedophile!" I shout, returning to smoking the comforting nicotine.

"Oh, things are going to be so fun with you in town, Aniki!" he exclaims, knowing my resolve has faded and I'm coming. "Now I wish I could chat longer, but I have to give that guitarist friend of his a call. We both assumed you would get worried and call him."

"I'm going to kill you," I say, grounding my cigarette into the ashtray until it's just a nub.

"Look forward to seeing you too," he replies. "See you soon, Aniki."

Whether he hung up first or I did, I don't know, because I slam the phone down maliciously in its tray. I am tempted to open up my balcony doors and throw it out into the street, but adding "innocent bystander struck by flying phone" to my week would surely not help matters.

When Shuichi was on the phone with Ryuichi yesterday afternoon, I swore that I wouldn't go to Kyoto with Shuichi to see my brother and have lunch with the three of them. Well, lunch is off the menu, but I'm left with no choice but to go and get Shuichi away from my conniving baby brother. If I don't, he'll rat out Shuichi and me to my father, who I might have to see nonetheless to explain my intentions for coming to the Uesugi temple. True, Shuichi could drive himself home in Tatsuha's car, but he'd still be left with the problem of not having any insurance in his name. Plus he got lost on the way to Kyoto! Imagine him trying to find his way back.

Things so far haven't gone as planned for me. Shuichi's return has been one disaster after another, but I plan on ending it right now. I'm going straight to Kyoto, getting Shuichi and then coming home. Nothing and no one is going to stop me.

TO BE CONTINUED

--

REVIEW PLEASE! I NEED THEM!

I had a blast writing this chapter. Tatsuha is such a fun character, and with so many people wanting him to make an appearance, I couldn't resist. This story becomes more enjoyable to write after each chapter.

Thank you to all of you who have stuck with me and reviewed my work.


	7. I need to perfect my plan

Disclaimer: No, I don't own Gravitation.

--

I need to perfect my plan.

It has to be absolutely perfect. Sitting here on the hood of my car, I'm smoking my... well, I can't remember what number this cigarette is. It's getting harder to decide whether these sticks are calming my nerves or making me more agitated. Staring up at the temple high above the cliff of stairs nonstop while lighting up continuously is exactly why I need to get my objectives straight. Getting Shuichi without seeing father or killing Tatsuha is exactly my goal and that's exactly why I parked all the way at the road far below instead of up the hill in the back where Tatsuha keeps his bike. I'm getting in and out.

Exactly.

This can't be happening! I'm seriously sitting out here like I'm in a bad spy movie. I observe the smoke emitting from my cigarette. "This is ridiculous," I scoff. "This serene temple won't be my prison. I won't let it my cancerous friend. You and me will not be forced to stay in Kyoto any longer than we have to be. How could I ever think you were ruining me? You're the only one who's always there for me."

Flicking the stick away to join its other friends, I make my way toward my former home where Shuichi came to prove himself to me. Tatsuha could be a good kid but Shuichi picked the wrong person to go to because my little brother will see this as an open invitation to pry into our personal lives while sticking it to me and playing pretend with the pink hair punk.

I can imagine what's going on in his twisted sixteen-year-old monk-in- training head. It mostly involves trying to reenact one of Nittle Grasper's fan service performances. I don't think about it too much. Don't want to talk myself out of what I'm doing and abandoning Shuichi to my brother's NG fantasies. The thought of adding Tohma into this mess makes his dream my nightmare. Noriko on the other hand... Just because I'm involved with Shuichi doesn't keep me from appreciating the allure of a woman. I had a "thing" for her when I was Tatsuha's age, but if anyone knew they would never let me live it down. I can't have that!

What I can have is my cigarettes, car and Shuichi all at my place. Shuichi has to see that to come to the one place I don't want to be means how much he means to me.

I'm oddly surprised that there is no scene. I see the wind rustling the tree leaves, smell the incense in the air and hear the water spring from the small fish fountain out back. It's as quiet as a temple should be, at least though I expected an emergency medical unit tending to my father after having a heart attack from seeing Shuichi.

Instead of going through the temple, I decide to go around it. If my father never sees me, I was never here.

"Tatsuha!" I call demandingly, though trying to keep my voice low.

"Aniki!" cheers an elated voice though I don't see him.

The door to his room is wide open. I don't see any exploited actions or Nittle Grasper on the TV. My father didn't know this was the perfect room to sneak out of at night. I should know. It used to be mine. His room is kept like any teenager under a religious father's home: illusion of neat on the outside, a mess in all hidden areas. It is fairly clean minus his favorite jacket on the floor and books scattered in corners. For Tatsuha, however, it is way too quiet and empty of life. "Tatsuha? Shuichi?"

"Up here!" I back away from the room and look up at the tiled roof. Lounging comfortably with a happy grin to match was Tatsuha, but Shuichi isn't with him. Oh sweet Lord! Please don't tell me he's letting him roam free. He'll no doubt want to speak with my father, looking as he does, speaking of his undying love for me and calling him Baldy if my father says anything to ruin his joyous speech.

"Ta-tsu-ha," I start, dragging each syllable of his name out with an accompanied cold stare, "where is he?"

"You mean Shuichi?" he questions.

Immediately I give him my famous scowl. 'You mean Shuichi?' Who the hell does he think I'm talking about? I don' waste my precious time to ignore the outside world just so I could come and play his stupid game of twenty questions.

"The brat, you brat!" I exclaim unable to not group the two together. Whenever Shuichi did something really bad he would act as Tatsuha, playing dumb. There was the time he closed the novel I was working on for six hours straight while I left to relieve my bladder from the beer I drank. Wanting to pull me away from my work by force, he snuck into my office and shut the word program down without saving. Truly I was infuriated, throwing him out until I cooled off, but what he did was an accident and I got over it. This moment was on purpose.

"Brat?" he repeats. "Those words hurt. You shouldn't say such things. Like when you called me a pedophile on the phone. You know I only date people older than me. There's a difference. That could be damaging to my reputation."

"I'm about to come up there and damage something," I say coolly. Making one subtle move toward the tree he used to make it to the roof, he follows my movement.

"He's not here," he confesses. "He went... out."

"_Out_?" I repeat. "Don't tell me you don't know where he is."

"I do," he answers with a nervous smile. "Don't kill me when I tell you though."

"You're my little brother. I'd never," I reply flatly.

"As much stock as I put in that," he begins, rising and sidestepping his way to the nearest tree limb, "I think you ought to know what happened."

Waiting until he jumps down before me, I decide to give him a little rope. Hopefully I won't have to hang him with it. His ear-to-ear grin returns, dropping the serious façade. "I knew exactly why Shuichi came here the whole time."

The little bastard.

"Okay not exactly," he clarifies, guessing my rising annoyance. He leans against the tree trunk, folding his arms. "Shuichi drove to Kyoto to come see me. I was quite surprised when he called me for directions. I thought he went home because the video shoot was over. I was totally thrilled to know he was here. Getting to hang out on a cool set to see Bad Luck is awesome. You won't believe how hot everything was. You should have seen the three, especially Shuichi. No wonder you keep him around."

Immediately my thoughts go to yesterday and away from my brother's astonish face of being near stardom. That smoky eye makeup and tattered clothing he wore brought up an odd attraction in me to him, leading to a missed opportunity when I fell asleep. Now I'm left with only what could have happened. Those clothes could have been tossed away as I searched for the cute Shuichi to which I was accustomed.

Holy Heaven what's wrong with me? I can feel the blush of _embarrassment _(that's the word I'm using and I'm sticking to it) on my cheeks. Blinking away the thoughts, my voice uncontrollably rises. "The story Tatsuha!"

He flinches, staring at me for a brief moment. "Sorry. You must be irritated with me getting off topic."

I avert my eyes. Yeah, let's go with that.

"Anyway," he continues, "I snuck him in here, which by the way was the first time I ever had to sneak a _guy_ into my room. You're welcome."

"Thank you," I say nonchalantly. Tatsuha wouldn't want to tarnish his golden reputation with my father. It was a risk to keep Shuichi here all this time.

"After he told me he saw you, I immediately knew you two had some squabble, but I didn't understand why you would send him here."

"I didn't," I respond, relaxing my stance.

"Yeah he told me. All this over a car, huh?" he questions, furrowing his brows. "Don't blame you for getting mad. I should have warned you in advance, but he made me promise."

I don't scold him. He only thought he was doing Shuichi a favor. Neither of us could have imagined a whole issue of trust would be an outcome.

"Don't worry about it," I assure him.

"You're my brother though, and I want to help you now," he kindly adds. "He was just going to stay here for a few hours and then call you up to say he was here, but I didn't want the uninsured guy out there at night. I figured you were thinking the same thing. I made him a bed to rest and then today I called you. I told him you're trying, whether he believes me or not."

"Thanks," I say low but genuinely. "So where did he go? I want to get back on the road before it's too dark."

Suddenly Tatsuha looks down at his feet. "Like I said, I want to help. Shuichi was glad and wanted to pay me back for tutoring him and stuff." His face starts doing funny things, as if he's trying to contain a smile.

"Tatsuha," I begin warily, "where is he?"

"He's taking me to lunch," he states and a giddy laugh briefly escapes him before he bites his lip.

"But it's past lunchtime," I announce, checking my watch to make sure.

"That's why tomorrow is another day," he quips.

"Tomorrow?" I question. "Tell me you mean you're coming to Tokyo."

"Actually Shuichi wants to stay in Kyoto," he answers, his happy grin now out of his control. "He's already made plans."

"Why are you getting so ecstatic over lunch?" I ask, almost wanting to laugh when a memory comes to mind from yesterday. My heart skips a beat and my gut tightens. Tatsuha covers his mouth, trying to hide his smile. "I'm asking this one last time, Tatsuha. _Where is Shuichi_?"

His dark eyes just stare and seem to smile themselves. No, he wouldn't do _that_ to me. I take my hard gaze off of him and step into his room, looking around. None of Shuichi's things are here. I check Tatsuha's desk and find a note with Shuichi's handwriting (scribble actually). I can hear Tatsuha shuffle outside as I read the words.

12:00. You, me, Sakuma and Yuki. Lunch.

Slowly I turn to face my brother who seems as if he can't decide whether to be scared or break out into song. I'll make the choice for him.

"_Sakuma_?" I mutter slightly, tearing the paper between my hands.

"If you turn the paper over Shu's hotel and room where he's staying at is on there," he quickly says, lamely trying to change topics.

"You _brought_ me up here and _sold_ me out!" I shout, steaming toward him.

"Sold out?" he laughs, backing up away from me, stepping right into the pond. "No, you see--"

"Wanting to _help_ me you say," I retort.

"I really do," he states, patting his hands in the air, hoping to keep me at bay. "But I think I'm the one who needs help right now."

"You got that right," I remark.

"Honestly I didn't bring this up," he swears. "He offered."

"I'm sure you tried your hardest to turn him down," I sarcastically utter.

"Not really," he laughs. Realizing his stupid mistake, he cowers behind a tree. "Aniki, with the two of you up here you can settle this little spat. I'm sure you wouldn't want to order Shu to leave against his will after he already feels bad. You probably haven't even thought of what to do."

He's right but there is no way I'm letting myself get sucked further into disaster. "I don't care. I'm gone. I'll go pick Shuichi up and I'm going home."

"I can't let you do that," he boldly counters.

"Try and stop me," I challenge, determined to leave the way I came.

As I storm away, footsteps rush after me and Tatsuha suddenly jumps on my back. "What the hell are you doing? Get off me you idiot!"

"This is my big chance and I won't let you stop me this time!" he cries right into my ear, trying to get me in a headlock but very unsuccessfully.

"What happened to that help of yours, you psychotic excuse for a brother?" I say, trying to flip him off me but he is gripping too tightly on my collar.

"I'm doing this for our happiness!" he shouts, trying to wrestle me to the ground but I continue to stagger onward to the steps.

"What are you? Seven?" I scold, knocking him off.

He lands on his backside with a thud. "Okay I didn't want to do this but you've left me no choice."

"Oh yeah, what's that?" I laugh in triumph.

"Dad! Eiri's here!"

"Eiri!" calls an elderly voice as the front door slides open. I'm frozen at the top set of the stairs and turn to see an aging shaved bald man in black robes coming my way.

"You should have listened to me," Tatsuha smirks as he rises.

I take back anything good about him. He's an evil little demon in the disguise of a human. Why must he share my face? "I can revert to childish antics too you little piece of--"

"Eiri," my father begins. "Tatusha said you might come, something about spending time together. Good. Maybe you've also come to your senses about this silly lifestyle of yours. Come inside."

I flash my coldest glare at Tatsuha as he follows our father indoors. What did I do to deserve this? Maybe I should give Shuichi my car during lunch so he can accidentally run Tatsuha over with it. No, that would deprive me of the satisfaction.

I reach into my pocket for a calming cigarette, but discover the box to be empty. "Et tu, my friend?" I mutter, accepting my nightmarish fate for the next few hours.

TO BE CONTINUED


	8. I don’t know what the Hell I’m doing

Disclaimer: Gravitation is only a show I like. Well, a show I love. Well, a show that I think is stupendous and should have went on for a lot longer. In short, I don't own it, because if I did then I wouldn't be writing this, so I suppose it is a good thing to those who enjoy this story because they get to read this. On with the show…

--

I don't know what the Hell I'm doing.

It's true. Because I don't, everything that has happened up to now is my fault. I admit that. See, if I had just did something really bad in my previous life, I would never have been born, never been related to Tatsuha, never have argued with Shuichi and never be letting a car cause me Hell. All of this has led me to the conclusion that when I die in this life, whether from smoking, drinking, stress or utter insanity by my upcoming lunch date with Ryuichi Sakuma that caused me to order poisonous blowfish, I will ask the powers that be to give me oblivion. If that is not doable, I will settle for being reincarnated into anything that isn't human, like a praying mantis. If I recall correctly, they're the ones that people find fascinating and eventually gets eaten by his mate after sex. At least that way I either get good attention by an enlightened monk or death by sex. It's a win-win situation by my perspective. Praying mantises don't have the problems I have. Of course, knowing my luck the monk would turn out to be Tatsuha or my mate would be a reincarnated female Shuichi. Hey, maybe I'd get run over by a bike wheel or car while crossing a road, killing my green ass!

"Eiri!" cries my father, slamming down a fist on the table. "Are you listening to me?"

"Yes," I dispassionately answer, blinking away a daze.

"Good, as I was saying," he continues, "writing smut is not going to keep our family name well-respected. If this is what you are going to do--"

Honestly I wasn't listening to a thing he said before and I don't plan on starting now if he is still on the same topic of whatever it was I wasn't paying attention to. What's the point? We've been sitting in the main family room while faking to drink tea for almost an hour just so he could carry on a one-sided conversation. I've already come in on it too late. Oh, and there is the fact that I don't care and have a pretty good guess he's mentioning every sin I've committed against the family or something to that effect. What had I been contemplating before he interrupted me? Oh yes, being a squished mantis! I never used to space out to the point where I began to think of such stupid things. It's something Shuichi said I should try. "If you think about something silly and focus on it, you can empty your head about all the stuff you don't want to think about," he once told me during a discussion about why he was forced to stay so many times after school for not paying attention in class. It would have to be a really bad situation for me to follow the empty-headed punk's brainless advice.

Well, I shouldn't think so harsh. It actually is helping, so I shouldn't say he is brainless. It's just easier not admitting he is on to something worthwhile for a minute. Does this mean I'm going crazy? Let's not say this is going crazy in love. No, I'm simply going crazy. Shuichi might be a kind, loving and affectionate guy that has made me feel something that most normal people out in the world might call 'happiness', but he is still an irritating, nerve-wrenching whining brat. I can't start taking his things seriously!

I see my father's lips moving and the creases on his forehead going up and down as he continues scolding me, though I've tuned out the sound of his voice. I wonder if I'll look like him when I'm older. What if I actually took over the shrine? I look great in black, so I know the robes won't make me seem old or unattractive. But what if I shaved my head? All of my blond locks gone? That doesn't sit well with me at all. I don't have to worry about it. Shuichi wouldn't ever let me do it. For a guy who dyes his hair whatever shade of pink he is in the mood for, he won't ever let me do a thing to my hair. Not to say I want to dye it any weird shade. He says he doesn't care about my looks, but no one is completely void of physical attraction by appearance. I do believe his sincerity that he doesn't care what I look like, but I know he likes the way I look now.

I've got Shuichi on the brain yet again! Look what this kid has done to me! This is his punishment toward me for not giving him what he wants. Yes, this is what he's trying to do to me. Make me think this is all my doing while he is soaking up the fact he is winning somewhere in a hotel. I don't know how he knows what I've been thinking, but he _does_. He's finally learned telepathy or something. Maybe he's slipped some sort of drug in my already body killing cigarettes. Maybe he's been planning this for months and been slipping subliminal messages to me in those songs of his! Ah-hah! That's it! Didn't he say something about 'sending feelings to me in my sleep' in that _Anti-Nostalgic _song of his? I've got you, you little fairy!

There's another bang on the table. "Eiri, stop staring at me with that deranged look! I'm your father and I'm telling you what is best for you."

I comply, though I didn't even know I was doing it. "As you were saying--" I coax, wanting the old man to continue to the point where maybe he'll tire himself out and leave me alone. Seems I've adjusted my spacing out to include Shuichi and our problem, trying to find a way to get myself off the hook. I can't. I mean I could because I'm Eiri Yuki and my whole life for the last few years was letting the world be the cause of my annoyance. However, since this has to do with Shuichi, I've got to accept that it isn't all him.

But I can't let myself get sucked into a lunch date with Ryuichi Sakuma. What if I kill him before I even get a chance to give my order of scotch to the waitress because the happy-go-lucky, stuffed-bunny-loving, alien-child-in-adult-human-body man can't decide whether Kumagorou wants something from the children's menu? What if my brother makes a total fool out of himself that his drool causes everyone to drown? What if I snap at the table, grab a steak knife and take Shuichi as my hostage to get out of the restaurant? Hmm, that is an idea. No wait, you can't do that Eiri, because it will inevitably make more problems with Shuichi. It looks like I might not have any option but to learn the art of spacing out in less than twenty-four hours to keep my sanity and Shuichi's happiness. This might be my only way to make the pink-hair punk see my trust in him and make him get over this.

The poisonous blowfish will be Plan B.

"Now, are you going to buckle down and take my advice?" my father inquiries, putting all the authority he can muster into his tone.

No, I have to think of something else. I've got to go to Shuichi's hotel room and figure out how to fix this before tomorrow. I don't think I'll be able to put up with Shuichi, Tatsuha and Ryuichi all in one room and in public no less! For the love of God, I don't have any cigarettes with me right now to help me cope with the thought alone. How many would I need to deal with the actual event?

Rising from the floor, though somewhat shaky from kneeling so long, I decide that I have to see Shuichi tonight. "Where are you going Eiri?" my father barks. "You didn't even answer my question!"

"It's no. Whatever it was I say no. It will always be no!" I composedly inform over my shoulder as I head for the door. Didn't have to pay attention to my father to know that whatever he was commanding me to do deserved a negative response. "And if somehow you out live me, the praying mantis says no too."

"Praying mantis?" he repeats confused, before putting the thought aside. "You aren't leaving. I'm not done talking to you."

"I'm going out for a while," I announce firmly. "Don't wait up for me!" As I open the door, an eavesdropping Tatsuha spills in and lands at my feet. He was probably hoping for an argument or some smart mouth comments from me, by the look of disappointment on his face. I heave a heavy sigh, prepared to step over him before he shoots up in the doorframe.

"Yeah Father, we will be back soon," he states with a departing wave. "He's taking me out for the evening. You know, brother-brother stuff." My brother can't seriously believe I'm going to take him with me.

"Well, if you are taking your brother than all right," my father unhappily agrees.

Tatsuha steps aside, gesturing for me to go first. Paying him no mind, I slip on my shoes and proceed away from home. Tatsuha is following close behind. I figured he would take the cold shoulder hint and get lost, but as I approach the steps he is still on my tail.

Turning around to face him, I give him a glare. Ever since I came home I've felt like a time warp has sucked me back to my younger days. "You can go away now. Thank you for getting me away from dad, though I should be throwing you down the steps for putting me with him in the first place."

"You're welcome," he says, not the least bit scared anymore after securing another victory over me. "But I'm coming with you."

"No, you're not," I decisively object, making my way down the long temple stairs in the cool early evening.

"If I said please?" Tatsuha follows beside me, keeping my pace.

"If I said intensive care?" I threaten.

"You're going to see Shuichi," he concludes without question. He quickens his pace by another step to assure he'll be coming along. "Don't worry, if you two feel the need for some one-on-one action, I'll step outside and give you a few minutes."

I roll my eyes at his stupid insinuation. "I'll save you the boredom of roaming the hotel lobby and leave your ass here."

Tatsuha laughs and shakes his head. "Enough with the jokes, Aniki. You have to take me with you."

"And why's that?" I scoff.

"Because without me you won't know what hotel Shuichi is staying," he answers.

At the foot of the steps I stop. He doesn't have me this time. I still have the note Shuichi left Tatsuha in my pocket that I inadvertently tore when I found out about the lunch with Ryuichi. "See," I show him. From it I read: "Room 29." Wait, this is only one half. Again I reach into my pocket, but the other piece is missing.

"Looking for this?" Tatsuha questions, revealing the other half of the note from his jacket pocket. "I think you dropped it when you dropped me earlier."

Dropped it? I wouldn't be surprised if he had stolen it from my pocket, but it seemed once again that I was at the mercy of my baby brother. "Give it to me," I flatly order.

"Having the room number is good but I guess you won't know what hotel to go to without this piece, huh?" He crumbles the paper and stares at me hard.

"And I guess you aren't going to tell me which hotel because you want to give me directions yourself," I deduce.

"Quality time," he tries to assure. "Remember, I'm here to help you both."

Reaching into my pocket I remove the car keys and with one click of the button I unlock the alarm and doors. "Get in."

TO BE CONTINUED


	9. I'm at a dump

I'm at a dump.

"_Dump_?!"

After the torment Tatsuha put me though with my father and attacking me like an escaped monkey -which didn't help my already aching back- I expected a long and torturous drive to wherever he stashed Shuichi.

"Would you rather I left him at the temple with dad?"

While leaving him with my father would have created a mess bigger than what already was -"You got that right..." - I could have endured a lengthier travel -"You flashed me dirty looks the whole ten minutes we've been in your car!" - if he'd been more considerate with the accommodation.

Of all the places my brother could have placed Shuichi he decides to bring him to this rat hole.

"It's not a rat hole!"

My brother isn't telepathic. Every thought I was thinking I expressed in words and he's lucky that's all the expression I've done so far today with the mood he caused me.

The motel isn't some seedy, run down, hooker infested, five room building on the side of the highway (well, I can't be 100 sure about the hooker thing, especially with this being Tatsuha's selection). It's apart of a standard three-floor motel chain with a main office and individual rooms whose doors could be accessed from outside via key cards. But come on! I might not hang out with Tatsuha frequently but I know well enough this has to be one of his getaways.

"Contrary to whatever you've heard about signed, well-toured musicians, he makes money and quite a bit too," I say, resting against the steering wheel and watching the revolving motel welcome sign light up as it was getting dark out.

"Oh shove your sarcasm up your ass Eiri!" he snaps, getting out of the car with a hard slam of my door; me following suit with the hint of a smirk on my face from bugging him. "I know he has money but forgive me for bringing him where he could check in under my name and avoid the slightest chance of being seen by some scummy tabloid press creep wondering why he was at a hotel - without any bags and with your handsome brother waiting nearby no less - early in the evening." I simply stand there listening to his tirade with my chin in my hand on the roof of the car, as he takes a brief moment to think of what to say next. And thus he continue: "And it's close to my place so I could check on him. Who knows how long it would've taken you to suck it up about your petty argument over a car and come and get him. Excuse me for trying to help!" His eyes cast downward to the parking lot's asphalt. "God Eiri, you're my brother but you're also my best friend and I just want to see you happy."

"Tatsuha," I call, causing him to look up, his face serious, almost pained. I look right back with the same expression. "Thanks and... I'm sorry. Come here." My arms are open in a gesture of embrace and Tatsuha smiles, coming over to me, ready to accept. Just as he gets near I shove him so hard backwards he almost falls. "Get the Hell away from me you disgusting prick before I beat you in the same length of time as that moving explanation." Tatsuha laughs loudly, his insincerity so inexplicably obvious. "You think I don't realize he's here as your future tag line to whatever you're screwing at the time: 'Shuichi Shindou slept here' - and that's the clean fantasy free version. You could careless if anybody saw you with him."

My brother wipes his eyes, getting his laughter under control, and says, "Okay so I left that out, but I really did mean that other stuff. You are my best friend."

If anyone else was around, I might say something smart to correct him, but I simply scoff. When I really weigh the few important people in my life, Tatsuha probably is my best friend, if I am forced to give someone other than Shuichi that title.

With arms crossed and a calm tone I get down to business: "It's time for you to run back home for beddy-bye."

"I'm coming with you," he whines.

"No you're not," I continue in my calm yet forceful tone. "Like I said earlier, I'm getting the kid and getting the hell out this city. No stops. No layovers. No pass go or collecting 200. That includes the portal from which you were spawned." I sidestep around him and head towards the stairs to my destination. "Tell father whatever story you want about my leaving. I don't give a damn."

Tatsuha immediately runs after me. "Wait a minute! What are you doing? Are you just going to scream Shuichi's name until he comes out?" I roll my eyes. Shuichi would probably like that but it isn't necessary as I have a more dignified approach.

"I don't need you anymore Tatsuha. Did you forget that I know he's in Room 29? Next time try to steal the whole note from my pocket."

He keeps moving in front of me, blocking my path. "I swear I'll be good. I'll even step outside in case you two need some alone time."

I sigh from his stupidity. "Don't worry about our alone time and go be alone with yourself. Let the memory of what might have been with Ryuichi Sakuma warm the cockles of your heart."

"Shuichi isn't going to go with you, not yet anyway. You're not going to ruin my lunch with my Ryuichi. This is my reward for helping. This I know for a fact."

"Hope you got money for a taxi or your legs are in good walking condition Bro because it's time to say goodbye," I continue as if I wasn't hearing any of this restitution babble.

He takes off with a sprint, taking the stairs to the second floor two at a time. Tatsuha wouldn't usually act so nuts and could actually be decent in most situations but this idiotic notion that he was actually going to be seated next to Ryuichi Sakuma was driving him out of his mind. I don't rush after him. I simply follow, but it does occur to me that I spent so much time arguing with him that I still don't have a game plan and that slows my step. I didn't want to see him in that sad room mulling over our argument all alone.

By the time I reach the top he was already banging on the door to Room 29, pleading for Shuichi to open the door. It's strange that Shuichi doesn't immediately open the door. I hoped he isn't out. I want to see him. I want to take him home. At this point the best thing I can do is ask Shuichi to come home.

When I finally come to the door it is beginning to crack open, but then suddenly there is a big crash against it, causing it to close and startling Tatsuha back a step. There's the clicking of locks locking and I can hear Shuichi from the other side mumbling something before shouting, "Just a minute!"

Tatsuha shoots me a glance and when I give him an inquisitive stare right back he shrugs his shoulders. Shuichi's tone is quite puzzling. He sounds high pitched in a flustered sort of way.

Tatsuha raps on the door again. "Um, Shu, can't you open the door? I gotta surprise!"

There is shuffling noises as if he is rushing around the room in a panic and I can swear I hear a familiar muffled sound that I couldn't put my finger on. "If you promise to behave first!" is his answer.

"Behave?" I repeat in a whisper as Tatsuha sheepishly smiles.

"I didn't do anything I don't normally do to him."

Shuichi continues his demands. "No trying to grab me. NO bad mouthing Yuki."

I give Tatsuha another look to which he responds, "I didn't say anything I wouldn't normally say to cheer him up."

"And you can't stay long because -yawn- I'm getting tired." That yawn is obviously phony. He sounds too hyper to be tired.

"Shuichi I need to talk about--!" my brother starts to cry, trying to interrupt before I grab his arm and nudge him towards the stairs as the conditions are still being shouted through the door.

"This is your time to go," I order. I'm not upset with him as nothing Shuichi said was new to me. I just want to see what was going on in that room that started Shuichi's ramble and for whatever reason my brother is his problem, delaying my access.

"I want to know what's up with him!" I give him another hard squeeze of his arm. "Fine! I'll go!" Tatsuha says dejectedly, then immediately turning around with an indignant finger. "This isn't over. One way or another I'll be seeing you for lunch tomorrow."

I wait until he is out of sight before turning my attention back to the door and knocking on it. Shuichi shouts, "You didn't promise yet Tatsuha!

The best thing to say probably wasn't shouting, "Let me in Brat," but I was missing my cigarettes soothing effect and my annoyance with the situation was causing a greater knot in my back to grow that it came out exactly like that.

"Yuki? Is that you?" There's the sound of locks unlocking and then the door is wildly flung open.

I prop myself up against the door frame. "Afraid he couldn't make you your promise."

His eyes go wide. "Yuki! You're my surprise?"

Shuichi peers around me like there was something else outside but me. What the heck was he hoping for? "Disappointed?"

"No, don't ever say that!" he cries, then clasping one hand over his mouth and using the other to grab my wrist and pull me in with a hard tug. One more look around outside he takes before closing the door, securing it behind him.

"What going on?" I ask only to receive a sign to his lips to be quiet.

He pants for air and then whispers, "Is he gone for good?"

"That's pretty harsh coming from you, but yeah he's gone" I comment. It was harsh too. Shuichi never says things like that about anyone unless they do something really bad or annoying. Then again, it is Tatsuha we're talking about.

"I didn't mean it like that," he says no longer in a whisper. He shakes his head in shame and then takes a deep breath in before letting it out. "I just couldn't have him here at the moment." That was another weird thing for him to say but before I can get anything out of my mouth his face beams with happiness and he charges at me to give a ferocious hug, taking away my breath now that he has regained his. "Oh but I am glad to see you!"

So much for mulling. Truly I am baffled. Here I was expecting him to be in the same emotional state I left him but he isn't appearing that way. If anything he seems more frazzled than hurt. Maybe that wasn't as bad as it might work in my favor.

But who am I kidding? As easy as it all seems I'm sure he isn't going to simply forget. Or maybe I am the one bothered by this more than him.

I don't respond back to him, instead giving the room a once-over, which isn't much. It's a tiny box of a place. Against the boring yellow flowered papered wall is a king size bed in a drab burgundy paisley bedspread. Across from it is a TV in a cherry cabinet - at a shockingly respectable volume for the kid - playing some silly game show. In the corner by the closed blind window is a brown chair and table set in the same wood as the cabinet. There are two closed doors (one for a closet and one to a bathroom I figure). It's badly lit, as most motel rooms are. It's also a bit messy (finally something in Shuichi-esque fashion) with some snacks and toiletries on the small table and clothes on the floor. There is fresh water stains in the carpet and a towel lying on the bed, and after taking a look at Shuichi's manner and feeling my sweater becoming wet with something other than tears for a change, I realize why it took so long for him to answer the door.

"You just got out of the shower," I conclude, pushing him away momentarily to grab the towel from the bed, "and in a rush too."

His purple T-shirt drapes oddly on his chest (it is backwards by the label sticking out from the front). It is damp around his shoulders from his wet hair, which is sticking to the sides of his face, and his dark wash jeans are zipped but not buttoned. He takes a look down at himself with a chuckle and an oops, seeing what I noticed and starts with the button on his jeans. "Those aren't the clothes you were wearing when you left."

With a quick pull in of his arms through the sleeves he reverses the T-shirt from backwards to forwards; a black print of a pair of headphones on the front. "Well about that," he begins with a brief wringing of his hands, " I needed a change of clothes, so Tatsuha gave me some old clothes he didn't want anymore but they were too long, so..."

I cut him off before he rambles endlessly about his day. "I wish you would've looked for a better place to stay if you had time to go out and shop."

"That's not exactly it," he mutters.

Meanwhile I place the towel over his head and gently rub his scalp to dry his hair. He looks up at me, his eyes smiling from the attention I am giving him. "Not exactly _what_?" I inquire but instead of an answer he changes the subject.

"Are you staying?" he asks, his tone practically begging.

"Here?" I snicker at the idea but then I have to give it a tad consideration. Being in close proximity with him brought to mind our failed welcome home romp and sex being an icebreaker didn't seem so bad in this current situation. "I guess we've already got the room," I add, dropping the towel around his shoulders and using it to pull him closer.

We kiss. It isn't filled with an intense hunger like when he arrived home in that ridiculous outfit (what I thought of it now permanently to stop thinking about altogether). It is a soft meeting of the lips, almost a long, drawn out tease. Things like this are what Shuichi likes and I feel we both deserve it.

It is great until he grunts a noise of protest and lightly pushes me away. "Yuki, if you keep doing that you'll make me forget!"

"Forget?" I ask. "Forget what?"

I get my answer when there is a rapid knock, but it isn't coming from the front door.

It's coming from the _bathroom_.

"Hey Shuichi!" calls a happy disembodied voice. "Are we done hiding?"

Shuichi shys away. "Um that's what I needed to tell you Yuki. We're not alone."

TO BE CONTINUED

--

OOC: Hello everyone. Thank you for reading my work. I'm very happy with all the love I've received for it. If you are wondering what took so long (and it has been LONG), I can answer that. If anything you deserve an answer. I've been going through some rough things since my last chapter submission and fighting through a depression, but the funny thing is this isn't the real reason that kept License to Shrill in the update section. I lost all the work I had done on it and on my other fanfictions. You can imagine my loathing of having to start all my chapters over, but low and behold I stumbled upon a saved copy of a chapter recently - this one- and decided it was only right to put it up for all to read. I have also found a piece of the next chapter, but it needs to be finished before I would let my readers read it.


	10. I have a bad feeling about this

I have a bad feeling about this.

Horror movies aren't my type of film but I've seen enough to realize I've been sucked into one. Beyond that bathroom door lays the nightmare I had tried to avoid but would nonetheless have to face. Less than a few feet away is what I found to be the closest clone of Shuichi and yet far and away the most aggravating specimen of human nature. Millions of people would tell me wrong but the sexy mature being you got on stage is not what you got in private. It is the most immature, hyperactive terror my brother-in-law Tohma ever so briefly introduced to me and I would prefer to have kept it at that. It is none other than Ryuichi Sakuma.

A few quick strides gets me to the knob just in time to grab it and keep him from coming out.

"Yuki!" Shuichi stresses in a whisper, rushing over and trying to remove my hand but a hip check on my half keeps him at bay. "Yuki, what are you doing?"

"Hey Shuichi!" Ryuichi calls in that uber happy manner of his. "I think this door's stuck!"

It isn't possible to keep him in there forever. If Ryuichi is like Shuichi he'll remain determined to pry it open no matter how I stone myself from his attempts. Screw the need for a plan! It's time to fly completely by the seat of my pants. I follow Shuichi's lead and keep my voice down as I rather not share details of our debacle with his Lord. "I'm not going to ask what he is doing here. I'm not dim-witted."

The knob jingles and the door trembles in the frame. "Come on Super Kumagorou! Let's pull!" champions Ryuichi. Strength, don't give up on me yet. I plant my feet and brace for the vocalist and his idiotic stuffed bunny's violent attempt to ajar the door. It fails miserably with a crash. "Well you were no help!"

While Ryuichi is giving his bunny the third degree for his lack of grip (throw not being alive in there, Idiot), Shuichi tries to loosen my hold. "Yuki it isn't what it looks like! I swear nothing is going on with Sakuma and me. I know it looks bad with our fight, me running off, the motel room, me not really having my clothes on when you got here and the hiding him in the bathroom--"

I better end his run-on sentence before he permanently implants the shuddering idea of him and Ryuichi together in my mind. "I know you aren't screwing him, so don't backpedal."

He purses his lips but before I can question the look The Voice of the Bathroom says, "Shuichi, if you still aren't dressed you don't have to be embarrassed. I didn't see all that much."

"Just a second Sakuma!" Shuichi shouts with a broken voice before focusing back on me. He must still feel the need to explain because he resumes with, "Tatsuha said I couldn't stay at the temple; something about your dad not being thrilled with me being there, which is ridiculous. I mean, how long can your dad hold over my head the responsibility of breaking up your engagement to Ayaka?"

_Pretty long_, I think as the door shakes again.

Shuichi fills with more dread from my trapping of his hero, quickening his speech: "So Tatsuha brought me here and said he'd wait at home for you, but I got bored and didn't want to leave in case you showed up and calling Hiro to come all the way up here to bring me a change of clothes didn't make sense when Sakuma was planning to come up here for lunch anyway, so I called him and asked if he'd come up early, which bring us to now. You've gotta let him out Yuki!"

"Doesn't anyone want to see what I drew on the foggy mirror?" the voice interrupts before suddenly shouting, "Oh no! It's dripping!"

I'm going to continue to ignore him if I am going to have any hope of getting out of here. Shuichi better brace himself because the rare event of me holding the entire end of a conversation is about to occur. "Listen up and close your mouth because I'm going to only say this once. I didn't come all the way up here so I could spend yet another day in the same city as my father and my brother and, God forbid anyone else that knows me. I came here for you and only you. Right now, I don't even care about the fight about the car. For some insane reason I am compelled to have you home."

If it is at all possible for a person to illuminate like a light bulb then this was the moment because Shuichi was glowing by my last words and is getting that look like he's going to pounce on me in delight. "Aww... Yuki!"

But I use my free arm to keep him at a distance and his glow comes to a halt. "**But**," I continue with a much emphasis, "you have to be truly dense to not see that Tatsuha is manipulating you and the situation of ours to satisfy him and only him. He is using your silly need to prove something as a reward to get to that freak in the bathroom."

"Leak in the bathroom? Where?" Ryuichi asks curiously. I'd correct him if I cared. Seems he must be searching for the non-existent leak because he's not shaking the door knob anymore. At least I can relax my forearm.

"In short," I conclude, "I'm getting out of this city tonight and you can either come with me or you can stay and play out this tea party with the March Hare and the Mad Hatter."

"I know he is manipulating me, sort of" confesses Alice - I mean Shuichi.

"_Sort of_?" I repeat curious and perplexed. He doesn't seem to mind being taken advantage of? Seems so as he is standing there like I just pointed out he's a boy. He is dense!

"I'm not seeing any leaks in here," Ryuichi shouts, resuming his attempt to open the door. Which one should I find the Most Annoying?

Shuichi's going to give the title a shot. "When I woke up from my nap at Tatsuha's house, I caught him browsing my my little black book. When he got it out of my pants pocket I don't know. To keep him from calling Sakuma, I had no choice but to invite him to my lunch date. He said he was going to make it up to me by getting you to come up here after me. It's a little selfish, yes, but when you really think about it it's coming from a place of love. I mean, _here_ you are."

That dribble about love is enough to think Shuichi got into a car accident on his excursion up here and suffered brain damage. However, I can see why he was compelled to bow to my brother's wishes. So it was _him_ who orchestrated this little mess? Shuichi's just been trying to fix it. Still, it isn't going to play out well. "This idea of yours is going to end up a total disaster and I think you know that."

He looks wounded. "That's not true."

"Really?" I question. It's time to prove my point.

I let go of the knob and step aside. In a flash it swings open and out comes flying the pop idol, jumping on to Shuichi as he shouts, "FREEDOM!"

"Sakuma! You're heavy!" he complains, his knees having buckled under him.

"You're no Kumagorou yourself," he comments, rubbing his head. "Well, except for the color."

And here he is: dyed green hair, brown cotton cowboy shirt and jeans wearing spunky man Ryuichi Sakuma, currently pinning my boyfriend to the floor. I fold my arms and take a glance at the pink bunny sitting in the sink and the art created on the foggy mirror. I can only assume it's of a rabbit and two stick people with stars and heart all around them (if there is any meaning in that drawing, I really don't want to know).

Blue eyes gaze up at me. Now aware of my towering presence, he sheepishly glances back at the dripping picture. "Kept myself busy," he says with pride before bouncing up and assisting Shuichi off the floor. "Hey Shuichi, this isn't the crazy fan boy we were hiding from, is it?"

"No," I answer nonchalantly. If I was that door would have been knocked down the moment he started talking in his so-called hiding place. "I'm the crazy fan boy's brother."

"Sakuma, this is Yuki," Shuichi introduces. There's love in his voice as he says my name. I guess in a way I should be honored to be presented with such esteem to his God.

"Oh yeah!" he exclaims as he recalls who I was with a snap of his fingers. "Tohma's fan boy!"

"I am _not_ Tohma's fan boy!" I spat. Shuichi consciously steps between us. Just the idea of him saying that could send me into orbit and for him to actually say it made me want to punch him in the face. Tohma was my sister's husband and my confidant - dare I say friend - but I am **no one's** fan boy!

The man is not at all aware that he just came close to his demise. "Maybe it's the other way around with Tohma... Anyway, it's great to officially hang with you from one Shuichi fan to the other! Do you like the clothes I brought him?"

"They're nice," I plainly state. It won't pay to be nasty to him when the clothes aren't bad. He's worn a heck of a lot worse.

"When I saw them I immediately thought these were perfect for Shuichi," he adds, grabbing a bemused Shuichi away from me so he can point out each item like on a diagram in a presentation. "See, the purple in the shirt says, 'Look at how it brings out my remarkable violet eyes.' And the headphones print says, 'Look I love music.' And the jeans say, 'Look...'" Then he pauses, staring off into space confounded in thought. He waits for a brief moment until he shrugs and says, "I'm not sure what they say. I like denim I guess."

I am fighting the urge to roll my eyes and walk out the door as he continues: "I got him a cap and sunglasses too. And I have a leather jacket to go over all this in case he goes out. They're in the closet."

I can't resist the urge to take a jab at him. "Does that say, 'Look I like dead cows?'"

One would think even Ryuichi Sakuma would pick up on my quip. Nope. He simply turns to Shuichi and questions, "Why would you like dead cows?"

He _definitely_ deserves the Most Annoying crown.

Okay, it's time to put an end to this before either think too hard about the bovine that assisted in the making of said jacket. Outside it is getting very dark and I want to be on the road before I'm too exhausted to keep my vehicle straight on the road. I 'm moving toward the front door. There is only one exit out of here and I am damn sure going to be near it. "Sakuma, tell me, why were in you in the bathroom?"

Recalling the chain of events causes the vocalist to rub his forehead like he has a headache. I thought maybe using his brain might have caused an overload but it's clear that he's nursing a red mark. "I heard the knock at the door and when I went to answer it Shuichi body slammed me and my tossed me into the bathroom."

"I'm **so **sorry Sakuma!" Shuichi cries with shame.

"Apology accepted!" he says. "Actually it kinda reminded me of the days when K-san was my manager and not yours. He used to grab me like a hostage and toss me into places to hide; although, he never did it naked out of the shower. Well, unless you count that incident at the Los Angeles swimming pool and his swim trunks. Anyway he did it to hide me from overexcited fans so I understand from where you were coming."

"Point proven," I say to Shuichi, turning the handle and making my hasty exit into the night.

"Wait Yuki!" he cries, storming after me in confusion. "What did that prove?"

"Why are we leaving?" Ryuichi asks following in suit. "Oh no Mr. Yuki! You aren't mad at me for not bring you any presents are you?"

"Yuki!" Shuichi calls again as I make my way down the steps.

I don't stop or turn around. "You knew yourself my brother would go nuts if he saw Ryuichi so that's why you hid him in the bathroom. Now you want to make it an event? I am not, can not, and will not participate in this lunch. I don't even let my editor dictate who I spend time with and she has a hand in my paycheck so what makes you think I'm going to let you do it. I'm going home tonight with or without you."

Meanwhile a moping Ryuichi is grasping the railing in self-misery. "If I had known for sure Mr. Yuki was coming I would've brought him something too."

Shuichi practically falls down the steps rushing after me. "No you're misunderstanding! The setting has to be controlled. You're right that if he found Sakuma in a hotel room he'd be unmanageable, but if it's at a lunch it'll be different. It's only a few hours out of the day. Everyone will get what they want."

Leave it to Shuichi to make a lunch last a few hours. "And I get to what? Slit my wrists?"

I would have thought he pull what my brother did and do whatever's necessary to stop me, but oddly he wraps his arm around mine and drags me along down faster, putting more distance between us and the self-tormented older man. "Yuki let me explain. I'm doing this for us."

"_Us_?" I repeat. How preposterous!

"Listen," he begs. "I'm manipulating Tatsuha as much as he is me."

"How so?"

"We do the lunch; Tatsuha and Sakuma become friends; they stop calling; you'll have time to finish up your book and/or you and I have plenty of time - **alone time** - to do... things. I've got less than a month off of work. If Tatsuha can behave himself, and I am convinced he can, Sakuma and he surely hit it off and become friends, which Sakuma would love to have. T hey'll be busy hanging out with each other. That means absolutely no distractions for the two of us after tomorrow!"

We both intentionally come to a stop and I at least give him the benefit of mulling over his plan before out right dismissing it. Never would I have thought he would throw his hero to the lion, which is how I see it. He obviously sees it as some meet-and-greet exploit. However, he doesn't ever think about the whole picture. Whether Tatsuha and Ryuichi became soul mates after meeting each other or not won't matter because their antics may blow up so bad that my sister Mika and Tohma will start sticking their noses in it which will inevitably bring them to my doorstep or whatever bunker I have to lock myself in to keep my sanity.

He can tell I'm not going to agree to it. "I know on paper it sounds too simple, but I can make it happen. Please, don't make a decision tonight. Just think about it."

I suppose I can at least do that. It will give me plenty of time to convince him to rescind his offer to my brother and his God. "Fine."

"Oh Yuki thank you!"

"But I'm not staying here," I quickly add. "I'm going to find another place to stay."

"Mr. Yuki!" addresses Ryuichi, running down the steps like a kid at Christmas. I guess his pity party is over and he no longer planned to throw himself off the balcony. "I know how I can make it up to you!"

"You're leaving?" I mutter.

"Sakuma, Yuki isn't mad with you," Shuichi comforts. "He's going to go somewhere nicer for the night and I'm going to go with him."

"Oh even better!" he chimes. "I can drive you both and then help you get your car fixed in the morning!"

"Car fixed?" Shuichi repeats, turning to me. "What happened to your car?"

"Nothing," I state as confounded as he, but then a knot forms in my stomach. I suddenly remember Tatsuha's stern warning that he was going to keep me in Kyoto no matter what the cost.

"I remembered that Shuichi said you had a Mercedes and when I saw it from the balcony I instantly knew it had to be yours," Ryuichi says.

We hesitantly walk across the parking lot and see my car.

My Mercedes...

My black Mercedes...

My black Mercedes with **_four_** flat tires.

"Yuki..." Shuichi starts, putting some distance between us as he scrutinizes my face to see how I would react. "Who could have done this?"

I look over at him because I know that he knows the answer as much as I do. Sure, any ordinary vandal could have slashed my tires, but I would say that the air coming out of the letter T puncture marks stand for something.

"Shuichi," Ryuichi addresses in a firm voice, "go get our things and bring Kumagorou with you. I think he's had enough time-out time to think about what he's done. Come on! Chop chop!"

My partner hesitates to follow his Master's orders, still analyzing to see if I might kill him once we're alone just because he'll be the closest one to throttle. I motion with my head for him to go back to the room and he slowly but surely gets going.

"It's probably too late to take it to a garage," Ryuichi states, patting me on the shoulder, "but I'll drive us somewhere real nice and get it to a shop in the morning. I promise you this evening is going to be great!"

"Great," I mutter, as the car continues to sadly slope toward the asphalt. "_Just_… great."


	11. I need a drink

Disclaimer: We all know I don't own Gravitation. I also like to point out I am not an advocate for smoking or drinking but the two fit so well with Yuki's character that I had to play it up. Thanks for reading!

--

I need a drink.

So many choices to choose from: vodka; rum; scotch? The beer on tap won't cut it this time. Tonight calls for hard liquor. Nothing on the rocks or garnished with olives, tiny pearl onions or worms needed. They'll only take up space in the glass. Maybe the bartender will mix all the liquids together for me if I tip him enough. Hell, that's how they'll end up in my stomach once I start downing them. Throughout our drive to the hotel I kept trying to think of some way to make a last ditch effort to get out of my situation and Kyoto entirely, but the closer we came to our destination I realized it was all futile for the evening. It didn't help with Ryuichi's incessant chatter ranging from "Let's sing a car song" to "Do you want to hold Kumagorou Mr. Yuki?" According to the Lord our God Sakuma, the mangy pink toy would make everything better.

What's to make better? You mean I didn't look the epitome of Zen? Why, I could have taken the bunny and made stuffed animal road kill. I could have thrown myself out into oncoming traffic as Ryuichi sped down the road like Speed Racer, but I didn't. Let's get to our destination as fast as possible I say! I'm not driving anywhere tonight. My poor baby of a car sitting in that dirty parking lot of Motel Rat Hole is evidence of that. So what else is there for me to do but to find a place to drink myself into a stupor. I can finish off my liver for a sweet death or at least make me forget the company I am keeping.

Still, I've got to admit one thing about the little spazzes: they have better tastes in lodging than my brother.

We pull up to a five star hotel that towered up into the night sky. I don't even bother for the valet to open my door as I exit on my own and head right inside without the Dynamic Duo. There are fountains on the grounds, chandeliers from the ceiling and pricey furniture in the lobby but I don't pay any attention to their details for I make a beeline right to the bar, hoping it is still open at this late hour.

It is! Finally the first thing that has gone right all day! And to top it off, there is barely anyone in the joint with the exception of the bartender and a few patrons at the tables. Despite the cheesy hotel piano music playing out of the overhead speakers, I've got peace and quiet.

I plop myself in the darkest corner of the bar and simply sit there for a few minutes enjoying my solitude. It's almost too good to be true. I make sure that Tatsuha isn't shadowing me or any other relatives are in my current location. Nope, it's Uesugi family free! I signal for the bartender. "Double scotch," I order, no longer having to entertain the thought of asking for a shot of arsenic in it.

"Hey Yuki," Shuichi greets as he plops down into the bar chair next to mine.

Perhaps I shouldn't nix the arsenic entirely.

As the bartender sets the brown liquid in it's glass housing before me, I grab his forearm and warn sternly, "**Don't **go too far."

"Oh yeah, I'll have something too," Shuichi chimes. "Whatever you have on tap." He must have thought I was stopping the presently startled man to take his order. Well if he wants to join me in a future douse of poison who am I to stop him?

So as I let the bartender scurry away and down my first drink of the night (yep, I'm already waving for a refill), I can't help but notice that the scene still remains serene and sans the sound of endless jibber-jabber. Even Shuichi's tone in the range of normal people conversation. I'm almost afraid to ask but I just have to know: "Where's your partner in crime?"

"Sakuma?" he questions (like I'd be talking about anyone else). "He's amazing Yuki! First he tips the valet guy an insane amount of money to pretend like he never saw us. Then he pulls aside the hotel manager and is able to completely bypass the scary check-in girls at the counter. And look..." He fumbles in his pocket to slip out a plastic card and slide it over to me. "Here's your key. He got us our own room and not just any room but the penthouse. Isn't he the best?"

When the bartender returns with our drinks I don't feel the need to scowl and fracture a tibia. While hearing how wonderful the almighty Ryuichi Sakuma is can warrant an eye roll and a retreat in the opposite direction of the Sea of Adoration, I decide to bask in it for a moment. The penthouse? _Not bad at all, you little spazzy bastard._ I take a moment to pick up the card and tap it on the counter with a twinge of anticipation. This evening could possibly turn around in the very near future. A nice big bed would be the ideal improvement for sleeping over my previous night's chair adventure.

_Wait a minute Eiri!_ my brain screams. _You're a young, virile man with a hot boyfriend at a hotel and you're thinking about sleeping? Ponder the other possibilities!_

"I guess it'll do," I comment, downplaying my rising excitement.

Shuichi nods his head. "Yeah, and Sakuma will be in the room right next door. He already went to bed."

And there goes the excitement.

"Yuki?" he asks with concern as I put the card in my pants pocket. "Why are you slumping back in you chair?"

"No reason," I grumble with a quick swill of my drink to follow. The Lord giveth with one hand and taketh with the other.

Obviously sensing my displeasure, he puts his hand over mine, his fingers slightly chilled from holding his cold drink. "You know, I'm glad you're here. I really am."

I don't pull away for the soft touch of his skin on mine sends a sensation up my arm. "Oh? I thought with the whole car--"

"No no no," he interrupts, taking back his hand and swatting it in the air as if my comment were a fly. "Tonight there'll be no talk of that or work or anything else that will ruin our drinks. Okay?"

"Fine by me," I accept. How wonderful it is that he is giving me a break. Drained is the best word that describes how I feel. If he really wants to do me a favor, he will let us sit in silence until I'm too tired to even drink.

"Yuki, can I ask you a question?"

Getting what I want is not the theme of today. After a rub of my eyes and a deep inhale I rest my cheek against my fist and say, "Why not?"

He hesitates to swallow a swill of beer and then shifts his seat parallel to the bar to face me head on. Maybe I should order another drink if he is about to drop a surprise on me. "Remember at the motel when you said you knew why Sakuma was there?"

"Uh-huh," I voice with little care.

"How come you weren't…" He pauses, looking at me hard as if he wants me to finish his question.

"What?" I ask edgily, wanting him to hurry up and spit out whatever it is.

He sighs with pursed lips before finally completing with, "Jealous?"

Maybe I'm getting a little buzz off the scotch or maybe I'm more exhausted and not in my right mind, but something is happening that I haven't done in a while and I can't help but to express what I'm feeling.

I laugh.

And laugh.

And laugh some more.

Shuichi looks as surprised as I feel. "Yuki?"

Remembering I was in a public place, I managed to control myself and lower my hard to contain chuckles. "Oh my God! I thought I was only imagining that disappointment on your face. You are _actually_ unhappy that I wasn't jealous?"

"I don't know," he says. "You just sound toosure."

"I saw the note you left with Tatsuha," I clarify. "He's clearly here because of that damn lunch."

"Oh," he says with recollection.

"Come on…" I mutter. "You and _Ryuichi Sakuma_?"

He stiffens in his chair and his surprised expression changes into an angered puzzlement. "What?"

I rub my knuckles roughly over my mouth to lessen the smile that had appeared, looking at my glass instead of him because I feared I wouldn't maintain my composure. "That idea never even came to my mind. Sheesh, if anything the two of you together would like some strange science experiment gone awry."

"What is that suppose to mean?" he asks, sounding very insulted.

So much for not ruining our drinks.

"I know you wouldn't do something like to me," I explain, trying to appease him. "Unless you've been considering the idea?"

"Of course not!" he loudly declares before lowering his voice. "I wouldn't let anyone but you touch me like that."

"It's not in you," I add, now able to risk a glimpse at him. "Besides, that God of yours would have to be the one to initiate it and I think he's too naive to do that."

"Why would he have to initiate it?" he questions with his returning animosity.

"Like I said, it _isn't_ in you," I answer, finishing off my drink. "You might have the ability to put yourself out there when it comes to business but when it comes to any sort of sex or romance you always need the other person to start it."

"That's not true," he denies.

"Oh?" I begin to retort. "Let me count the ways of our relationship: First kiss?"

"Yes, that was you," he concedes.

"And first time we banged?"

"It was you," he utters with exasperation, before his voice rises to add, "but I never had been with a guy so I think we can cut me a little slack on that."

I shake my head. "Excuse."

"Hey!" he interjects, pointing his finger at me, "let us not forget who made the move to move-in with someone."

How quickly one can distort the facts. "You showing up my apartment one day and deciding not to leave I hardly count as--"

"The fact remains that I did," he interrupts as if he's actually bested me. "And the fact remains that I could pick up plenty of girls before I knew you."

On cue my eyes roll.

"Hey I saw that!" he groans. "It's true, and I was good at it! I could have picked up a guy too if I wanted."

"Blah blah blah," I mutter.

"You don't think I could do it?" he asks as if challenged, a smile forming. "You really don't think I could make a guy want to go back to my room with me?"

I say nothing and do nothing.

"Okay," he says, swinging his seat in the opposite direction. "I'll take that dare."

Now I never said that I was challenging him but I didn't find myself stopping him either. It will only take a few seconds for him to chicken out, using the excuse that he didn't want to hurt my feelings or that all the patrons in the bar looked creepy. Yep, there he is, looking from side-to-side, pausing on each person he comes across to consider his potential candidate.

Like I had noticed earlier there aren't many people from which to choose:

There is the token mix of Japanese and foreign business men at a corner booth drinking. He might increase his chance at a yes with higher odds. It would be a hoot if he would slink over and scare them into thinking this respectable establishment is a male escort bar. It's not going to happen it seems as he quickly dismisses them and moves on to the next set.

Pairs of patrons are scattered from table-to-table finishing up their meals and night caps but they are namely straight couples. Not only does he risk the girls announcing, "Shuichi Shindou oh my God," but also the guys punching out his lights. It could be the other way around should a guy actually be receptive to his advances. Luckily no girls will need to ruin their nail polish clawing his eyes out this evening.

There are a few waiters sitting around with nothing to do except moan-and-groan that we'd all get out so they can go home. Once again his odds increase at the chance one of them being interested. Nevertheless, he moves on.

Some older guy at the other end of the bar is looking miserable. Can't say what his story is but the writer in me creates one. Perhaps he found his girlfriend in the arms of another man and is thinking suicidal intentions over what will be his final tequila. Then a young beau approaches him, saying all the things he's ever wanted to hear. His drunken intoxication gets the better of him and his thoughts are consumed with the light that walked into his life. He'll show that hussy that he now he has someone to live for and that someone is Shuichi Shindou! Convinced his future is with this remarkable lifesaver of a man, the stranger is determined to possess him; however, the rival and obstacle of Shuichi's existing lover (that would be me) keeps him from the object of his desire. By the end there will be two murders and a suicide. Good for a story; bad business for us.

Thankfully our lives are spared as he moves on to the only man left in the room: the bartender. If forced to make a choice the server wouldn't be an awful one. He is pretty good looking: dark hair; creamy skin; nice build. Only problem is with me sitting next to Shuichi I'm sure that one glare would make him fearful of the damage I'd incur to his mixing arm.

In perspective the slim pickings aren't the problem. It's that he will not be able to do it in front of me no matter how much he acted. I must say that I'm actually happy at that fact. Should he somehow succeed in picking up a guy, I feel that the jealousy he so much wanted to have seen earlier would cause me to do something very stupid. I like being the only guy who has claim to him. That sounds sort of possessive yes, but I want him to only be mine.

And me his.

With one last look over of the room I straighten up in my chair and take a deep, satisfying breath. Here it comes. Shuichi is about to give up and say that I'm right.

And so he turns his seat and opens his mouth to say...

"Hi."

Huh? _Hi_? That's not a concession.

"My name is Shuichi Shindou and I was wondering if I could buy you a drink."

Is he...

He smiles and cocks his head to the side. "I hope I'm not disturbing you but I saw your glass was empty and you looked like a guy who needed a refill after a hard day."

He makes a wave to the bartender and orders me a scotch while I just sit there dumbfounded yet amused.

"You did want scotch, right?" he asks as the bartender gives me another glass and walks away.

"Hold on," I disrupt. "Are you picking me up?"

"You're the one who dared me," he answers, breaking out of character. "Who else would be a better challenge?"

I think at that very moment I grew fonder of him. What a clever little thing despite knowing I would make success improbable. I can't let him embarrass himself. Sure I could pretend but he'd know I was lying.

"I'd drop this little act," I suggest. "There's no need--"

"Are you scared that I could pick you up?" he asks. He leans over and lowers his voice. "You're the only guy in the room I want. I'm _going_ to get you."

Such a confident matter of fact statement… Approached by both girls and guys I have been, but it is always I who have taken control and made the decision for further advancements. This could be stupid, but I am intrigued. "All right. If you want to do this, go ahead. I'm not going to be easy you know."

"Aw," he whispers with a smirk. "That's too bad you're not easy. We could've gone right to the room if you were."

_Very funny._

"Like I said, I'm Shuichi Shindou," he introduces back in character, extending a hand.

"Going for the celebrity name drop," I degrade, unable to get into the spirit of this fully. "That's not going to work on me."

"Celebrity?" he repeats, taking back his offered hand to point at himself. "You're thinking I'm that good looking guy who heads up that band, don't you? What's its name? Bad Luck? Common mistake. I get it all the time. I know there's some resemblance and he has my name, but I am not that lucky, handsome fellow."

"Oh no?" I question, swirling the liquid in my glass.

"Nah," he says. "Just a coincidence."

I drape an arm over my chair's back. "I see. Is this where I'm supposed to say, 'My name is Eiri Yuki, not to be confused with the devilishly successful writer?'"

"Get out of town!" he exclaims with fake shock. "What are the odds?"

"Buying me a drink and not playing the celebrity card is nice, but you've probably lost your only opening in convincing me I should remain talking to you," I comment.

His smile diminishes and he turns to face the bar. "You said not to name drop and being a gentleman doesn't work with you. What else am I suppose to do?"

After taking a swill of his beer he slightly raises his right hip and pulls up the hem of his T-shirt. "Going for the whore card?" I joke. "I'm disappointed but if that's the best you can do--"

"No," he firmly cuts short, removing an item out of his pocket. "If you don't want to play then I won't bother trying. I'll just do what other people do at a bar."

You'd think right there and then I would either get on his case for being a baby or throw him a bone for at least trying to talk me up; however, I am preoccupied at the moment. On the counter he places the most wonderful little present in the entire world. My hand twitches. My mouth grows dry. My breath catches in my throat and I exhale with the tiniest sigh. Shuichi Shindou is not fooling around. He is no mere singer in a pop-rock band. He isn't just my lover anymore. He is an evil genius, for what lay on the counter was a fresh, unopened box of my favorite brand of cigarettes.

Normally he would not dare smoke and put his treasured voice at risk. Plus I'd snatch one out of his mouth if I caught him smoking because I didn't like him doing it. I know I'm not one to talk when he rides my case for the same thing. However, right now I don't mind.

He takes the tiny white box and peels the strip of cellophane around it. I can't tell if he is purposely doing it slowly to taunt me or if I am filled with so much anticipation that it seems like he is taking his time. The plastic falls away from the package and twinkles under the bar's lights. Next he cracks open the head of the box on the side, pushing it back to reveal the army of soldiers standing at attention. He reaches for a package of matches in the bowl beside him. It would take only one to do the job of lighting the singular stick he pulls out and holds between his soft fingers, but I became aware of the silver lighter in my pocket as if it suddenly was a thousand times heavier. Yes, the flame from it had to do the honors of that initial light.

"May I get that for you, Mr. Shindou?" I offer, taking out the lighter and flicking the wheel for the fire to ignite. If I lean any closer to him I will probably fall out of my seat.

Yep, I am now his bitch. Hell, he could do whatever he wants to do with me at this point if he would just surrender one of those pretty cigarettes to me. I don't even care that he was holding out on me. I think he knows it too. He has me in character and I am open to whatever flirting he wants to throw my way. If I have to finesse for the two things I want this evening then so be it.

Bringing the white stick to his mouth he takes a drag as I lit the end, the little red flame burning. A gray swirl of smoke is what he blows out in my direction with a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. What did I want more? To have that cigarette in his hand or to be that cigarette near his mouth? Maybe he's not so bad at this flirting thing after all because to me he's never looked sexier.

"Call me Shuichi, Mr. Yuki," he requests.

"Informal for someone I just met," I say, "but if you insist. Shuichi it is. You can call me Yuki."

"Not Eiri?" he mopes.

I shake my head. "I suppose you could but it reminds me too much of being scolded by my family. Just Yuki is fine."

"Okay... Yuki," he repeats with a small laugh. He must see the absurdity in this scenario, but he started it so now he's going to have to follow through with it. "So what is a handsome man like you doing all alone in a bar like this?"

Why indeed. "I came looking for someone. Now I'm stuck here due to unfortunate circumstances."

He taps the ashes from his cigarette into the ash tray. "Sorry to hear that. I'm going to do my best to raise your spirits."

I swallow what's remaining of the liquid in my glass and he gestures toward the bartender as if to ask if I want another, but I simply gesture back that I don't want anymore. I thought I was going to need the entire bottle when I came in here but now I don't feel the need to drink myself senseless. If I'm going to be flirting I want to be in control of my faculties. "I know what would make this evening better."

Shuichi looks up at the ceiling and mumbles, "Who's the whore now?"

"I meant a cigarette, Brat," I snap.

He chuckles and purposely grabs the pack off the table and pockets it. "Aw, name calling isn't very attractive."

I sigh and rub the back of my neck. He's going to make me beg for it isn't he? Playing by the rules is the only way to get through to him. "I'm sorry."

"Couldn't miss the opportunity to throw that back in your face," he says, before clearing his throat and getting back to his act. "So Yuki, would you like a cigarette?"

"Yes," I answer, trying not to sound too eager.

He takes a small puff from the one in his hand, watching me intently and making no move to retrieve the object which I desire from his pocket. If not for holding my empty glass my hand wouldn't know what to do with itself. Normally I could better control myself with my smoking habit. I don't always need a smoke; however, right now I felt slightly like a junkie. I want that damn cigarette. If I have to yank him right out of that chair and bend him over my knee to get that pack...

Wait a minute. Is that what he wants me to do? Is this some sort of retaliation for the scene with the keys in the garage? Or is he just trying to get me to grab him so he can gloat about being able to pick me up so easily? Maybe it's just my nicotine craving putting conspiracies in my head.

Taking the cigarette from his mouth, he flips the lit end towards himself, extends the other end to me and says, "Here. I'm afraid I bought the pack for someone else so I can only offer you this used one."

_An indirect kiss_, I think. Not bad. I'm finding it very seductive. I accept the stick and savor the long drag of smoke filling my lungs. I know it's unhealthy. I know it's a disgusting habit. Maybe one day I'll finally give it up 100, but at this moment I'm having the best cigarette in my entire life. It's the one thing Shuichi and I've shared today that hasn't made me want to kill someone and I'm going to enjoy it.

From the corner of my eye I can see he is trying to hide his amusement behind his glass. He is very cute. I wonder what would have happened if this were the first place we had ever met. Would I be so receptive to his advances? Perhaps not as I'd probably be too rude with my dark mood to give him the time of day. How stupid I would have been. Well, I'm not going to make that mistake this evening.

"Thank you," I say, snuffing the cigarette out in the ash tray.

He becomes puzzled. "What's the matter?"

"I don't like to share," I answer, turning my full attention on him. He shrinks back slightly under my hungry gaze. "I don't want just the one cigarette from the intended owner of that pack. I want all of them."

All he manages to say is a nervous "What" before I lean over with a cool smile and place an arm on the back of his chair.

"In fact," I continue as I remove the glass of beer from his grasp and place it on the counter, "I'm jealous of the intended owner if he has someone as adorable as you serving them up. I can't help but wonder what you do to him to warrant such devotion."

He swallows hard and his eyebrows furrow. "Yuki, those cigarettes are for you."

Suppressing the need to sigh I grab the sleeve of his T-shirt to gently pull him closer to me. I've clearly frightened him out of character and need to get him back on track. "Shuichi, I _know_ the cigarettes are for me. I'm giving you a window of opportunity to make this infamous move you were alluding to earlier. I suggest you don't miss this slim chance I'm giving you." I lower my voice into a whisper and put my lips next to his ear. "Now. Pick. Me. Up."

I sit back, waiting for him to do something; say something; anything. At first all he does is study my face. Saying what I said probably made him more apprehensive with pressure, but after my soothing smoke and having him so close to me I want to move along with this fantasy. I am becoming impatient but I want him to want it too. If events unravel as I hoped they would, we both will enjoy what is to come.

"Your hair..." he says softly, reaching over to brush some strands from my forehead. "It's gotten long." Those violet eyes of his have changed from playful to lustful.

"How would you know?" I inquire. "We've just met."

"You've cooped yourself up in your office instead of going out," he continues. "You've been working too hard. You've changed during our time apart. What have I been missing?"

I realize he's not playing anymore. The timber of his voice has become sensuous and there is a flush in his cheeks. One beer hasn't made him drunk. His mind is working overtime with the beginning of pleasurable thoughts. He's got an idea, but he is making meaningless chit chat because he doesn't know what to do next. I know him all too well.

"If it bothers you I can get it cut," I say, joining in his chatter.

"No, it's fine," he assures, waving for the bartender's attention. "It's just more of you to grab."

Move made.

"Leave some money on the counter and let's go," I propose more than order.

"So you're saying you want to go back to my room with me?" he questions, tossing enough bills to cover our drinks and a very generous tip.

Standing up, I hold out my hand and he happily puts his in mine. Walking hand-in-hand is a public display of affection I don't usually do, but he has earned it. I can only hope the elevator ride to our room doesn't taking too long.


End file.
